Portrait of a Prime Minister
by Drunken Vickster
Summary: Tenoh Haruka: Exsoldier, father, and Prime Minister of Japan. Is she up to the task of putting her country and her personal life back together?
1. The Invitation

Disclaimer: All rights to making money off of SailorMoon belong to Naoko Takeuchi and those she licenses. I am merely borrowing the characters and using them like action figures. There will be jets and tanks with big explosions, too. And karate-chop action, batteries not included.

Chapter the First - "Invitation"

Haruka sat hunched over her desk, and touched the lapels of her uniform jacket, sliding her fingers down one side as she was wont to do when concentrating deeply. An unfamiliar medal stopped her from her usual routine enough to distract her from her thoughts. She gazed upside down at the small pin, which was navy and gold in color. What was this for? Her mind flickered over recent memories, finally touching down on an instance in the last ceremony she attended where she had been wreathed in carnations and something had been pinned to her chest. She couldn't quite remember why exactly she had been there, and definitely not what the medal was for. She would have to ask Minako. Looking down at her jacket, she decided that it might be prudent to ask for a complete list of what each medal was for, and what each color represented. It wouldn't do for her to disregard what others felt was important. And that crazy blonde woman no doubt had a list, or could even draw one up from her strangely compartmentalized mind that could remember such useless trivia and bend the public to her will but couldn't even recall the birthday of any of her closest friends.

Picking up a heavy pen from the massive desk in front of her, Haruka wrote down a note to herself on a writing pad that had impressive looking stationary designs. She frowned at herself for enjoying marring it with her careless handwriting.

Returning to her previous thoughts, she turned her eyes to the folder before her. Innocuous, there were no outer labels and barely any contents, only a paperclip revealing that something was attached inside. Haruka gazed inside at the small, card-sized envelope, its address prominently displayed. The sender address, though smaller, was still distinct with its child-like scrawl. She pulled the envelope from under the paperclip, being careful not to tear it or bend it out of shape. Picking up a heavy envelope opener, she cut along one side of the envelope and gently eased out with card within.

"Save the Date!" it festively commanded, the ivory color offset by silver balloons and bubbles. The tall blonde traced the embossed decorations on the card. It was expensive, obviously, though not in a ridiculous manner or to be showy. The quality of the card and smoothness of the edges and clarity of lettering revealed the import of the occasion. Still tracing the design, Haruka was beginning to go into a daze when there was a quiet but demanding ringing from the phone in front of her. Holding the card with her right hand she reached for the phone with her left and hit the speaker button.

"Yes?"

A prim and polite voice came surely over the line. "Tenoh-sama, your daughter is on line two."

Smiling, Haruka reached for the necessary button and lifted the hand set from the cradle, while thanking her secretary. "Hime-chan," she spoke into the receiver after she brought it to her ear.

"Haruka-appa!" The woman thus referred immediately relaxed at the sound of her daughter's voice. "Guess what?" When Haruka professed a lack of any hint as to what her daughter might be speaking of, the young girl motored on. "Machida-sensei said that my playing is getting so good she says I might someday be a real concert violinist!" Haruka smiled at the thought, both for its romanticism and because the normally soft-spoken violin teacher most likely said those words in much more sedate manner. Hotaru continued blissfully. "And at the end of the lesson, she mentioned that there was a concert in a few days, and guess WHO IT IS!" Not allowing time for Haruka to do more than chuckle, Hotaru was on a roll. "Kaioh MICHIRU!"

At that last declaration, Haruka winced and eased the phone further from her ear. She preferred to speak to her daughter over the traditional handset, because it felt more concrete to hold on to something and even in this day and age it still sounded better than the speakerphone, but at times it was dangerous for her tender eardrums.

Gauging her daughter's level of excitement by the distance she had to pull the phone away, Haruka hesitantly returned the phone to its position over her vulnerable ears. "And am I correct to assume you want to go?" This time a breathless affirmative came over the line. Haruka wasn't surprised. Ever since Hotaru had picked up the violin four years ago, the young girl had latched onto the preeminent violinist of their time, Kaioh Michiru. The woman was known to be a bit of a hermit and rarely made public appearances, and Hotaru collected every newspaper clipping, photo in a magazine or online, and sound byte that featured the famous instrumentalist. Haruka had nurtured that fan behavior, being a fan of classical music herself and having heard a few of the mysterious woman's recordings. In the last few years, however, she had been too busy to follow the classical music scene, or any scene at all, but she was pleased to see her daughter keep up with it, even as she neared puberty and the onset of mercurial likes and dislikes threatened to cover the pictures of Kaioh-san on Hotaru's wall with those of the freshest boy band.

Haruka felt a small pang at that moment for the life she once had. Her responsibilities had been limited, and she mostly took care of herself and her interests. But now the interests of others came first. She put down the card still held delicately in her fingers and switched her phone to her left, grasping her overly heavy pen—no doubt worth more than a small car—and poised it over her stately stationary. "Okay, what time and where is it?"

Hotaru breathlessly rushed out with the details, as if afraid that her parent would deny her. It was on a school night, after all, but it being Kaioh Michiru, Haruka knew she couldn't let this opportunity pass for her daughter. After receiving overjoyed thanks at Haruka's confirmation that she would get tickets, even a loud and proud "I Love You!", Haruka smiled and hung up the phone. Gazing at the time and date, Haruka pressed the intercom button of her phone. "Unazuki?" she called.

"Yes?" came the reply.

Haruka tapped at her lower lip with her pen. "Do I have something important scheduled for next Tuesday night?" Haruka was feeling the urge to go with her daughter. It had been so long since she went to a concert, and a little art patronage by her would no doubt be appreciated by classical enthusiasts around the country. Also, it would give her and her daughter some time together, which Haruka found she was snatching at every scarce opportunity.

There was the sound of a book being opened and pages turned. "Yes, you do ma'am." Haruka bit back a curse. "It's a state function, actually, and you'll be entertaining guests from the top tiers of the military branches. I'm afraid that you won't be able to cancel, if that was what you were about to ask, Tenoh-sama."

Haruka sighed. It figured, especially considering most of these attempts by her were thwarted by another function. She realized that she couldn't blame Minako for booking so many evenings for networking; the younger woman no doubt wanted time off for herself. Haruka frowned and not for the first time questioned why she allowed herself to be convinced to do this job.

She had forgotten that her secretary was still on the line, until the woman spoke up. "On the bright side, ma'am, there'll be classical music." Haruka's ears perked. "It appears that a Kaioh Michiru will be playing at it."

If the secretary was surprised by the sound of Haruka's chair scraping as it was forcefully shoved from her body by her sudden stand, she didn't mention it. "Should I put you through to Aino-san?"

"If you will."

Haruka stood stock-still while she listened to the ring tone of the cell phone she was contacting, which was currently some random J-Pop song. At times like this, in fact most of the time, Haruka was irked at how a secure line, filled with anti-bugging technology and through which only she ever called, could still have a modern pop song mp3 as its ring tone. And of course the irked feelings extended to the irreverent woman who had put it there. This could also be Haruka's own utilitarian personality and military background coming into play, the blonde admitted to herself, but honestly!

"Moshi moooooshi?" The lilted and amused voice, as usual, put Haruka off of her track. She may always try to stress to Minako the seriousness of her job, but the woman was incorrigible. And, as Haruka was beginning to realize, it was beginning to grow on her. She remembered herself and her purpose.

"Minako, that event next Tuesday, you know that Kaioh Michiru is the guest?"

There came an almost-offended huff. "Of course, I especially arranged it." Haruka blinked in surprise. Minako took her silence as either the precursor to a blow-up or as a request to continue her explanation; either way, she breezed on. "I know you have listened to her music, so I sent a request to her people to see if she would be willing to play at a function, though it was on a whim since I figured she was a little bit too famous to do mere state functions. Sure enough, I got an automatic response denying my request. But a few weeks ago, I get a hand-written letter from the woman saying she'd 'love to play for the illustrious Tenoh Haruka' and that the nearest opportunity would be excellent." Haruka could practically see the "pleased kitten face" the shorter blonde must have been sporting. "My people, namely myself, got with her people and we sealed and dealed and now the woman is playing for you on Tuesday. Oh and don't worry, I've got a seat reserved for Hotaru-chan, too."

Haruka was shocked, at both the turn of events and what she perceived to be the magical power of Minako to make anything happen, and the fact that the woman had the presence of mind to include her daughter. She was too wrapped up to even hear Minako remark airily, "She has such marvelous penmanship…"

"So, Minako…" Haruka began to speak finally, though she had nothing really to say but her fevered brain demanded that sounds to come from her mouth. "… What are you doing right now?"

"Shopping."

Haruka nearly choked. In the middle of the work week, Minako was off shopping. Most likely hearing the gasping noises in the background, Minako went on. "I need to have a good outfit for the event! Do you have any idea what types of people are going to come? You've got you, you hot mama, and the heads of the military, and Kaioh Michiru!" She sounded immensely pleased with herself. "Movie stars are begging to come and rub elbows! And of course every politician in the Diet. I have had loads of practice at my 'None for you!' catch phrase. And I'm shopping because what if a movie star/musician/model sweeps me off my feet? If I do not color coordinate then the tabloid pictures will be awful!"

Defeated, Haruka sat back in her chair, feeling her tensed muscles painfully begin to relax. She hadn't realized that she had been holding herself so rigidly. Grinning wolfishly, she decided to surprise her PR specialist. "What do I get to wear?"

Hearing a clatter in the background of something most likely being dropped, Haruka chuckled. "Haruka-san!" The woman sounded scandalized. "In all of my years working for you, I never thought… oh, God… hold on, I need to sit a moment…"

Haruka laughed, easing back into her chair. "All three of those years?"

An unladylike snort replied. "Don't go starting on age, Haruka-san!" she scolded. "And anyway, wear whatever you want! I can make you the perfect party, bring the perfect guests, and get you there on time, but dressing your body is up to you. Plus, I know you've got style. And if not, you can always wear that icky military outfit."

Haruka paused for effect. "… so some JAF sweats?"

The sound of a dead line was her only answer as she was unceremoniously hung up on. Chuckling, Haruka set about to finishing her day. She carefully took the wedding invitation from her desk, placed it back in its envelope, and then slid it gently into her briefcase pocket.

As she went about her day, Haruka felt an unusual tension and excitement within her. As she signed important documents and fielded phone calls from important people, she found herself somehow distracted. It wasn't until she started humming while getting ready to leave that she could pinpoint the source of her tension.

It was anticipation. Realizing that she hadn't felt that way in a long time, Haruka took off her medal-studded jacket and, after draping it on the back of her seat, leaned against her desk. "Unazuki," she paged. After an affirmative sound, Haruka continued. "One last thing before you go: could you please put me through to Minako?"

The sound of that same infernal J-Pop song filled the darkening corners of her office. Haruka noted to herself to never put Minako on speakerphone if she had anybody else in her office. "Haruka-san?" asked the girlish voice on the other end.

"Thank you very much, Minako." Haruka could envision the blush and 1000-watt smile the other woman must be sporting. She heard a deep breath on the other end.

"You're welcome, Shusho-kantei!"

To Be Continued...

Author's Notes: Firstly, 'Shusho-kantei' is, I believe, the proper way to address the Prime Minister. Feel free to correct me if I'm being wrong (damn you Wikipedia!).

Secondly, 'Haruka-appa' is not a typo, and the reasons for it will become apparent at a later time.

Thank you for reading the first chapter! Sorry if I'm being obnoxiously ambivalent and confusing, but I've been watching too much TV lately and you know how they like to wait for ten episodes before they explain why a character did this or that. If it gets to be too much, let me know!

I apologize in advance for the mess of the Japanese political system I'm about to make. I realize that Japan has a prime minister and emperor, and there's the Diet, but beyond that I'm going to avoid adhering strictly to the actual facts. It's too hard. I'm glad I get to use my artistic license card for something other than jimmying open locked doors.

I would appreciate all criticisms, and even the occasional flame. I like it spicy, and I don't take things personally.


	2. Of Water

Chapter 2: Of Water

Mizuno Ami was no stranger to formalities. As a new doctor at a prestigious hospital, daily life became an obstacle course of learning new regulations, reviewing security measures, and memorizing the names and ranks of every surgeon in the house. One error in addressing a superior doctor could set her back on her self-imposed and very rigorous promotion schedule.

The security at the door of the _Sori-daijin Kantei_, however, blew all illusion of formality out of the door and seemed more like a militant prison. Ami set aside an image she had in her head of the Prime Minister being the sole prisoner of this building, locked up in the highest office within the highest tower, with only a lonely lamplight for company. Ami shook her head, deciding that she herself had spent too much time under lamplight recently and needed to take a real day off.

After three checkpoints within twenty feet of the front door, Ami finally came upon a receptionist's desk, featuring a perky looking redhead. Her heavy-looking name plate read "Unazuki" imposingly on her desk. The young woman had a tag in her hands and had stood up by the time Ami had reached her. She motioned Ami closer and clipped the tag to the front of the doctor's shirt. "Here you are, Mizuno-sensei," she said, pleasantly. "Please take the elevator to the fifth floor, and turn left. _Shusho_ should be waiting in a large conference room."

Ami murmured a thanks and headed towards the elevator that the receptionist indicated. The décor was nice, and the elevator played tinny music through a small speaker. She noted a thin scratch that ran from about knee height and disappeared at about eye level on the mirrored door. The elevator ran without stops to the fifth floor, and a pleasant chime sounded as the door opened.

Before her was a long hallway, and as Ami walked down it, she could see the offices of secretaries and lesser staff lining it. Unexpectedly, the left side opened up to reveal a big space, filled with a large table and surrounded by chairs. The outer wall was comprised entirely of window, throwing natural light onto the varnished wood top of the round table.

The room was bathed in the red light of the sun. Sitting at the head of the table, right next to the windowed wall, sat the unmistakable figure of the Prime Minister, leaning comfortably in an office chair. Her elbow was perched on the arm of the chair, and she held her chin in her hand. She had eschewed her normal business jacket and had loosened her tie and cufflinks. She was gazing out of the window, the setting sun highlighting her blonde hair with gold tips, her features cast in sharp shadow. In this moment of seeming unguarded meditation, she looked extremely photogenic.

Ami was saved from the conundrum of how to announce her arrival by the prime minister noticing her from either her peripheral vision or hearing. The head of state immediately rose and walked calmly to her, her long strides bringing her close surprisingly quickly. Flushed from having been caught staring and the speed at which the blonde had reached her, Ami bent over and bowed. "Mizuno Ami reporting for the appointment, _Shusho_."

The taller woman bowed quickly in response. "Thank you for taking the time to see me with your busy schedule," she said. "And I regret I must ask another favor of you."

The young doctor tilted her head quizzically, her eye noting the stress wrinkles on the blonde's face. "Yes?"

Picking at the back of the chair next to her, Tenoh-shusho finished. "Can I treat you to dinner, inside the House? I have an important document that should be here at any moment and I have to take care of it before being able to meet with you. I can join you soon, so please have some dinner, perhaps meet my daughter? Are you good with pediatrics as well, Mizuno-sensei?"

Ami took in all of the info and within a blink, decided. "That would be okay with me, _Shusho_," she replied. "Might I ask how to get to your residence?"

Sighing gratefully—to Ami's professional satisfaction some of the obvious stress had shrugged off of the prime minister's shoulder—the tall woman patted her on the shoulder and led her back down the hall, giving her brief directions as they walked. "I'll also have Unazuki tell the guards about your new clearance," she finished as she stopped at the elevator. "Thank you for waiting for me, Sensei." A smile flitted across the lower part of her face. "Usually, it's the other way around, ne?"

Ami smiled as well, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. "All the better to understand my patients, _Shusho_."

The prime minister surprised her by allowing a low chuckle, a husky rumble that made Ami color again, and she adjusted her glasses again in hopes of hiding her blush. "I will see you soon," the tall woman promised, waving Ami into the elevator and leaning against the wall. The last image the young doctor had of the head of state was a charming one handed wave, the closing of the doors severing the strong, green-eyed gaze.

Ami leaned against the back wall of the elevator, glad that she could breathe again. The Prime Minister was an electrifying presence on television, and in person her charm was magnified. Ami normally prided herself in her unflappable bedside manner, and found herself annoyed that she was so easily unhinged by the close proximity of the leader of her nation. By the time the elevator reached the bottom floor, again not making any other stops, Ami had composed herself, and was determined not to be influenced again by the Idol nature of what could be her newest and most prominent patient.

She stopped by the receptionist's desk again, and the perky redhead already had a badge ready to replace the old one. "Tenoh-sama has already informed me of the change in plans. Please take the elevator to the third floor and make a right. Someone should be around to help you there." Ami bowed slightly in thanks and headed in the indicated direction.

The third floor, at first, was merely an antechamber, red carpeted and guarded by two men. They eyed her badge, confirmed with Unazuki over the radio, and then ushered her through a sturdy door. The door was quickly closed behind her with an ominous thud.

The other side of the portal, however, was completely different from any other area of the building Ami had seen. Where the front reception area had been all black marble and the office area of glass and muted grays and blues, the actual residence was warm and sunny. Where she stood was a lowered area made with rough pink marble, though there didn't seem to be any shoes. Tentatively she stepped onto the plush off-white carpet, and looked around. She could either go to the left or right, and both ways seemed to disappear into a maze of rooms. The room she was in now was enormous, with several couches and a small table, coupled with a few statues and a fountain.

Just as she was about to simply call out for someone, she heard the faint sound of giggles. Muted footfalls grew louder until two young girls burst into the room from the right. Seeming engrossed in their game of tag, they didn't notice Ami's presence until the smaller of the two, a slightly young girl with bright pink hair and red eyes, ran right into her. Ami managed to catch the girl before she fell, and the taller girl who had trailed behind slowed to a stop.

Ami lowered her head to look the girl in her grasp in the eye. "Are you all right?" she asked gently. The girl nodded. Ami stood up. "Well, now that we've met, I'm Mizuno Ami. I'm very pleased to meet you." She earnestly held out a hand, which the young girl gripped with surprising strength.

"Tsukino Chibiusa," she replied. She then pointed behind her. "And that's Hotaru!"

The dark haired girl bowed. "You are the doctor," she stated, and Ami nodded her confirmation. Hotaru beckoned with a hand towards the left. "Let us go to the kitchens then, for dinner."

Chibiusa nearly swooned with excitement. She rewrapped Ami's hand and pulled her after the retreating daughter of the Prime Minister. "You are going to love the food!" she promised. She didn't seem to notice or mind that her friend that had been giggling with her earlier was now silently leading them through the hallways without even looking back.

Ami took the time to study the reclusive girl. At twelve years old, she was just beginning to show signs of puberty, her hips slightly widening. She was still quite slim, and was very graceful in her walk. She was severely dressed in a black long sleeved shirt and a dark purple skirt, and along with her quietness she painted a picture of a very serious young woman.

In public, Tenoh Hotaru was known to dress in only dark colors and rarely smiled at functions. She was like a small shadow to her parent's golden blonde presence. To those who disliked her or envied her, however, commenting on her staid fashion was a small slight compared to the insult of her birth. Ami frowned. Sometimes people were ridiculous when it came to genetically insignificant traits…

Her thoughts were interrupted by their arrival in the dining room. Ready at a moment's notice for any private dinners between the Prime Minister and the heads of other countries, the room was huge, with vaulted ceilings and impeccable decorating. Ami took a moment to study the architecture. As the group neared the back corner, Ami spotted a door that must have led to the kitchen and as they were about to reach it, a woman's voice boomed.

"Hotaru-chan!" the feminine voice called, and through the door appeared a tall, brunette woman. She startled at the sight of Hotaru standing placidly in front of her. "Ah, there you are. What are you having for dinner?"

"Korean barbeque!" Chibiusa answered for her from her spot several feet away and still clutching Ami's hand.

The tall woman turned her gaze to the pink haired girl. "Ah, Chibiusa-chan! I'll make sure to make extra for you!" She looked up to face the woman the girls had arrived with, and her green eyes bore into Ami's. Ami, for the second time that day, blushed like a maniac for no reason at all. She cursed her fair skin.

"Um, hi, I'm Mizuno Ami, I'm here for an appointment with Tenoh-sama…" she trailed off, unsure of what else to say.

The tall brunette stared for a second, and then stepped quickly towards the doctor. "Ah, so you'll be staying for dinner? What can I make for you? Ah yes," she rambled, her voice deep and resonating within Ami's body. "Kino Makoto, head Kantei chef. Call me Mako-chan." She stuck out a hand between their bodies.

Ami raised an eyebrow without thinking and the taller woman chuckled as the shorter woman shook her second hand in as many minutes. "Short story is, I would prefer if you called me Mako-chan, especially if I'm ever to see you again." Makoto tilted her head to the side. "I will be seeing you again, right?"

Ami smiled tentatively, trying to ease her blush away. "If Tenoh-shusho approves of me."

The tall chef gave her an appraising look. "Hmm, I think your chances are good." She still held Ami's hand, and now the other hand lay gently on her shoulder. Ami normally disliked being touched, but the personable chef radiated a feeling of calm and comfort. "Now, what would you like to eat?"

Sandwiches, was Ami's first thought. No, she couldn't pick sandwiches, even if they were her favorite food, because what would the beautiful chef think? It would paint her as a simpleton who ate sandwiches and instant ramen every day! Think… Sandwiches! No, there is an amazing kitchen right behind those doors with every food imaginable! Mmm, sandwiches. She'll think me like a child!

Ami shrugged. "Sandwiches…?"

To her surprise, Makoto laughed delightedly, squeezing Ami's hand and shoulder one more time before letting go. "Now, now, don't go easy on me," she warned, waggling a finger at the doctor. "How does Korean BBQ sound?" Ami agreed, nodding mutely, and Chibiusa cheered. The chef turned. "Hotaru-chan?" The dark girl nodded and then the Amazonian woman was back through the kitchen door in a flash, a promise of '10 minutes' floating back to them. Ami blinked, though it did nothing for her vision, considering her mind was filled with the image of startlingly honest green eyes and porcelain rose earrings.

Chibiusa relinquished her grip on Ami's hand and instead grabbed Hotaru's, leading them to the table. The table was Western-style and rectangular, with one chair at each end and 6 on either side. It was obvious whose seat was at the head, and Hotaru skipped over to sit on the chair on the corner next to it, and Chibiusa sat next to her. Ami carefully sat herself opposite them at the other side of the head seat.

"That's where Mako-chan sits," Chibiusa reported helpfully from her seat, swinging her legs back and forth.

Ami blinked. "Oh, should I move?"

Hotaru raised a staying hand. "There will be no need," she answered, then turned to Chibiusa to explain. "Mako-chan is too busy tonight preparing for tomorrow's brunch to join us. Maybe next time."

Ami felt an unexpected pang of disappointment. She reached for something to hold on to and her hand rested on an empty glass. She lifted it; it was crystal and beautifully designed. She looked across at the girls. Chibiusa had upended her cup and was stacking crackers on the bottom of its stem. Hotaru actually reached over the table and got more material for the pink haired girl's project.

Ami felt a smile crack on her face at Chibiusa's adorable expression of concentration, her tongue slightly sticking out of the corner of her mouth. The young doctor noticed Hotaru glancing her way, and politely returned the gaze. Hotaru seemed to blink, as if she were coming to a decision. She then pushed a button located on a nearby centerpiece.

A young man in a white tuxedo appeared seemingly out of nowhere. "Yes, miss?" she asked, bowing. Hotaru gestured towards their glasses. "I'll need some water, milk and…? She trailed off, looking towards the bluenette.

Ami caught on. "Water will be fine for me, as well." The young man bowed and left. The doctor's eyes followed the waiter before they were caught by the pink-haired girl, who she saw was looking at her. Politely, Ami looked back.

The girl put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. "I think I have a cold," she announced.

Ami decided to take her at face value. "How long have you had these cold symptoms?"

"Today and yesterday."

"Have you been taking any medication?"

Chibiusa made a face. "Ew. No."

Ami nodded. "Yes, I don't like medication, either, if one can help it." The waiter/servant arrived and deposited their drinks. Ami leaned towards Chibiusa. "How about, tonight, you go to sleep very early and give your body a chance to heal you?" She slid her glass over to the young girl. "And drink all of this water and that milk with dinner, and then another glass of water before bed." She smiled encouragingly as Chibiusa took her glass. "Water is a natural healer," she explained. "It keeps your body hydrated, which is important for processes like your immune system."

Chibiusa nodded. "I will take your advice, Mizuno-sensei."

The doctor waved a hand. "Please, call me Ami." She was rewarded by a wide smile. She glanced towards Hotaru and noted a small smile courting the corner of her lips.

As if she had an uncanny knack for timing, the Prime Minister herself finally arrived at the table. "Hello, everyone," she greeted jovially while seating herself immediately at the head of the table. "Did I miss anything?"

A round of head shakes answered her. The tall blonde sighed ruefully. "And here I was hoping that you would all be planning a pajama sleepover tonight with Mizuno-san. Ah well, I guess nobody becomes friends _that_ fast." She winked at everyone at the table, deliberately and in turn, which made Hotaru giggle and Chibiusa laugh out loud.

"She likes to be called Ami-san," Chibiusa supplied helpfully. Haruka turned to the young doctor.

"Oh yeah? Well then, I like to be called Haruka." Ami's eyes widened like a deer's in headlights as she tried to fathom referring to the Prime Minister of her country on such familiar terms.

Hotaru leaned towards her parent. "I think you've broken her a little, Haruka-appa," she murmured loudly enough for Ami to hear and snap out of her trance.

Haruka leaned back towards her daughter. "I may well have, Hime-chan." She straightened up and then took one hand up to her mouth and cupped it like a loudspeaker. "Ami-san, can you hear me? This is the leader of your country ordering you to call her 'Haruka'. Do you copy?"

Ami smiled as Chibiusa giggled madly and Hotaru unsuccessfully suppressed a grin. "Roger, Haruka-san."

"Good," Haruka replied, a satisfied smile on her face. Ami noted that while the blonde looked even more tousled than before, her hair more unruly and her tie loosened, she looked much more relaxed, and tense lines that stiffened her back when they had first met at the office eased away, most likely from the company of her daughter.

After the young man came to fill Haruka's glass with water, a few moments were spent discussing the girls' day. Chibiusa chirped nearly incessantly about the important minutia of her finger painting while Hotaru gave a perfunctory response as to the overall satisfactoriness of the day. Ami marveled at the utter mundaneity of the conversations, while a delicious scent began to waft in from the kitchen.

Suddenly Makoto swept through the doors, followed by two assistants carrying trays of food. Rice and chopsticks were placed in front of everyone, and while one assistant doled out the side dishes, which for Korean cooking were numerous, Makoto laid out the Korean ribs. Double helpings were for Chibiusa, who squealed happily and hugged the Kantei chef around her middle.

Ami's eyes almost watered with the delicious steam rising from her bowl, and tore her eyes away from the beautiful presentation only when she felt the gaze of the Prime Minister upon her. _Shusho_ was leaning on one elbow, conspiratorially. "And this is what she cooks up in ten minutes! What does she do for the rest of her day?"

Makoto, who had been looking over her work, slapped the table with powerful force. "Ha! Thank God I have state functions to prepare meals for or I would die of boredom!" The boisterous brunette waggled a finger at Haruka. "You would eat a salad every day of your life, you rabbit."

Haruka held up an austere hand. "I believe that title goes to that voracious carnivore over there," she countered, motioning towards the pink-haired girl at the other end of the table, whose yam-shaped pigtails seemed to twitch like ears as if she had overheard. Seeming to notice everyone's attention, she looked up, a piece of BBQ meat hanging from her raised chopsticks. She glanced at Hotaru, who shrugged, and they continued eating, though Chibiusa was noticeably more subdued.

The three adults turned back to each other. "Anyway, Mako-chan, take a break and dine with us," the prime minister implored, though her tone suggested that they had already debated this topic.

Glancing at the blue haired doctor, Makoto wrung her hands on her apron. "You already know that I can't tonight, I've got actual work to do. Unlike laws and kind-hearted doctors, food preparation cannot wait." She struck her point home by straightening to her full height, giving a sigh. "Though, of course, I will take you up on your invitation tomorrow."

Haruka smiled innocently. "But Mizuno-san won't be here tomorrow."

Ami's eyes watered from the heat rushing to her cheeks, but she thought she might have seen the kantei chef blush as well. She glanced at Haruka and noted the blonde's now-devilish grin. "I'm sure that at some time we will all be able to dine together," Ami said, diplomatically, when she found her voice.

Makoto took the out and bowed. "Thank you for your patronage," she said with a smile to Haruka, waved to the girls, and gave one tiny glance to the doctor before vanishing through the swinging door. Ami could immediately feel the loss of her room-filling presence.

Dinner was relaxed, with little talking. "I'm done!" Chibiusa helpfully announced, pushing her empty bowls away from her. Hotaru nodded as well, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. The dark haired girl stood up.

"May we be excused?" she asked her parent. "Chibiusa has to be home soon." _Shusho_ nodded, still chewing at a more sedate pace, and the girls beat a hasty retreat. Ami allowed herself a small smile as she noted the empty milk and water glasses across from her. She blinked, however, when she saw that her own bowl was nearly empty.

_Shusho_ seemed to catch her surprise. "Amazingly delicious, ne?" She lay down her chopsticks and gave a satisfied sigh. "I rescued Mako-chan from being an eternal sous chef at the Millennium Hilton, those chauvinist bastards." A young man cleared the dishes. "Their loss, my everlasting gain. As in, literally, I've gained much, much weight from that woman." She patted her stomach and smirked at Ami's raised eyebrow; the older woman looked as if she could hop into a flight suit and take off in a jet at a second's notice, and Ami knew that she knew it.

The prime minister continued to grin, but cocked her head as if assessing the young doctor. "Now that the food has been taken care of," she began, "May we talk business?"

Humbly, Ami nodded. "I don't wish to take up too much of your time, _Shusho_."

"Ah, what did I tell you about calling me _Shusho_?" the older woman chided, though she wore a smile. "We are peers, especially if I am to trust my health and the health of my daughter to you." The blonde eyed her. "My daughter seemed to approve of you." Ami kept her reaction to merely a blink, because she had no clue how Haruka could tell, considering Ami was there the whole time and not a single word had been uttered remotely related to health, other than the pre-dinner conversation with Chibiusa.

"I picked you out of the line-up my aides gave me because you are the youngest doctor in the country. You are Japan's darling, and the light of hope for the advancement of the country." Ami nodded and adjusted her glasses. She was extremely familiar with this role, having fulfilled it all her life. "But I'm going to ask you if you could continue being my doctor, because I like you, and trust you." Ami's eyes widened as they flew up to Haruka's face. The tall blonde grinned. "And you're really cute, too!"

Ami blushed for the _n_th time that day, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. "Thank you for the honor," she finally managed to say.

Haruka clapped her on the shoulder. "You say that now, but wait until you actually have to treat me for something. I hate needles, medication, hospitals, grouchy nurses, and the smell of antiseptic, all of it!" The tall blonde shuddered, and then looked at Ami seriously. "I'll probably fight every request you ask of me, and I'll never take it easy or take a break. I hardly sleep. I tell you this now, because I ask that you be mean, and cajole me, coerce me, bribe me, whatever it takes, for you to keep me healthy. Because I can't take care of myself." They had stood and walked to the front door, and the prime minister's earnest steps vibrated up Ami's legs through the floor.

Ami gazed into those earnest teal eyes. "I promise," she found herself saying, and though the prime minister hadn't asked for those words, she seemed immensely satisfied to have heard them.

"Good, good," the tall woman said, opening the door. "I will have Unazuki call you for our next appointment." The blonde nodded to the guards who stood outside the door. "Please escort Mizuno-san out, please," she asked, and one of the men nodded and began leading the way. Haruka waved. "Until next time, Ami-san!"

Ami bowed on her way out, then turned and followed the large back of the man in front of her. He pressed the elevator button, which opened immediately. She walked in after him and turned back, and was surprised to see Haruka still there, watching from the door as if Ami could get into trouble along the way. She waved to her one more time, and Ami waved back, until the elevator doors closed in front of her. She noted the long scratch on their mirrored surface, already familiar to her. She leaned back, rested her head against the wall. That was, most definitely, the most exciting appointment she had ever had.

* * *

A/N: Merry Christmas!

Yes, I took liberties with the _Sori-daijin Kantei_, also known as the office and residence of the Japanese Prime Minister. I'll be taking many, many more liberties in the future, so be warned. At the same time, I seem to be taking a few aspects of the culture for granted, such as Ami being surprised that the small foyer held no shoes, like a proper Japanese home. Expect lots of this uneven jumping back and forth, because that's how disordered my brain is.


	3. Working

Makoto hummed as she worked, laying down garnishes for the salad course of the brunch. The event was not for a few hours, but it being an outdoor picnic, there were quite a few preparations to be done beforehand. With the finishing touches completed, she took a giant roll of cellophane and covered the entire tray of salads, and then stuck the tray in a refrigeration cart.

She wiped her hands on her apron, and noted that she needed to replace the once-pristine cloth, as it was covered with all manner of vegetable juices, though the rest of her white uniform was pristine. This would be her third change today, but Makoto maintained an immaculate kitchen, and her physical appearance was part of it. She untied the apron where it was secured around her waist and tossed it into the laundry bag, pulling out another from a pile of folded linens and quickly wrapping it twice around her waist before tying it behind her.

She surveyed the room, eyes skittering over the various preparations her staff pored over, and then decided to help Watanabe with plating the sashimi appetizer. She was in the midst of flipping another flash-cooked portion of fish when she noticed a strange energy to her left. Sure enough, there were two women walking through the kitchen, their sedately polite pace sticking out amongst the efficiently hurrying cooks.

As they drew near, she took stock of them. The shorter woman in front seemed younger, but moved as if she had experience in a kitchen, making her presence known if she was walking behind someone and using her hands to guide herself around them. She had a wide, open face and demure manner that matched her casual clothes. The woman behind her looked a little foreign, and was much taller, sporting a sharp black suit. She easily maneuvered around the hustle and bustle, but her movements were more like a fighter's, a fluid reaction to telegraphed actions. Their eyes met, and Makoto nodded to them, and they made a beeline towards her.

For a moment she had to look down at what she was doing, and aware that the two were coming closer, she became overly conscious of her hands, the way the thick muscles of her forearms moved her long fingers and how her tall frame bent to handle the delicate plating she was working on. She frowned, habitually tamping down that negative line of thought.

She finished her task and looked up to see that the two women had arrived, watching her with interest. Well, at least the shorter of the two was eyeing her cooking, an honestly interested look on her face as she leaned over to see the sashimi, while the taller woman had a veiled look, helped by her dark sunglasses she still wore though they were inside. Obviously a security type, Makoto thought, but it was odd for there to be security detail for one cook.

"Good afternoon," Makoto greeted, for once thankful for the Japanese tradition of bowing, for her hands were still covered in sauce and spices. "Tagoto-san?"

Tagoto grinned and nodded, bowing as well. She had a cute manner and a short haircut that reminded Makoto of the blue haired doctor from yesterday, and she fought the urge to blush. "Yes, Kino-san, and might I say first that your kitchen is giving off a most delicious scent." She turned to her companion. "This is Freshé Vincent." The tall, dark woman leaned forward, and Makoto bowed to her as well, somehow reminded of the beginning of a karate match. She executed the bow more crisply than she had to Tagoto, and through the tensing body language of the other, she knew that they were both aware of each other's fighting past.

Makoto smiled disarmingly. "Please, call me Mako-chan," she said to both women. She began to lead them towards her office, which was really a glorified closet with a tiny desk and one chair, wiping her hands on her apron. Reaching in, she pulled a stapled set of papers. "Here is the list of dishes we're serving for today's brunch. Does the queen dislike any of these, to your knowledge?" When she handed the shorter woman the papers, she noticed a wedding band.

Tagoto eyed the list. "No, no, these all look good. Iono-sama likes many different cuisines, and from what I have seen and smelled since we got here, everything seems delicious." She tilted the papers towards Freshé, who looked over the shorter woman's shoulder and nodded. Tagoto handed the sheaf of papers back. "And please, call me Arata."

Makoto noticed a tensing in Freshé's shoulders, and Tagoto noticed it as well. She turned and took Freshé's hand. "Is something wrong?" she asked softly and sweetly. It was then that Makoto noticed a matching band on Freshé's left hand, cradled in Tagoto's small palm. So that is why security is tailing a cook, Makoto thought. She gave them a moment while Tagoto looked Freshé in the eye and stroked the back of her hand with her thumb.

Makoto shifted, drawing the attention of Freshé, which turned Tagoto around. "Did you want to supervise the preparations, Tagoto-san?" she asked.

The young woman smiled ruefully. "I'm doomed to be forever known by my family name!" she exclaimed, buffing Freshé on the shoulder good naturedly with her free hand, as the other was still holding onto Freshé's. "And no, Kino-san, I'm actually just here in Iono-sama's entourage as a pretense to come to Japan. We collectively trust your cooking, considering our last visit's spectacular results, so we're just stopping by before visiting my folks." She gave her companion another fond look. "I think Freshé is just nervous about seeing my folks. My dad and brothers like to pick on her."

Makoto actually chuckled when she saw a blush appear from underneath the taller woman's shades. "Tagoto-san!" the security agent admonished, embarrassed.

The cook shared a grin with Makoto. "See how easy it is! She's a little bit prudish, so my crazy family teases her a lot. She still calls me Tagoto-san in public and in front of my family, even though we've been married for four years!"

Makoto laughed along. "It's good to have family that accepts you," she said. "And, again, please call me Mako-chan." She took into account how open the pair had been with her, and decided to return some of that trust. "I grew up in America, so the only Japanese people I spoke to were my parents and a few adults at church. It's odd to have people call me 'Kino-san' or 'Kino-sempai' and be very formal." She reached into a drawer and pulled out a length of ribbon.

Tagoto gasped and clapped her hands. "So you know English very well?" Makoto nodded. "That's great, Mako-chan! Freshé's native language is English, actually. Let's switch!"

Makoto cleared her throat. "Is that all right?" she asked in English, looking back and forth between the pair while leading them back into the still bustling kitchen.

"Yes," Freshé replied, smiling for the first time. Makoto liked the low timbre of her voice.

Tagoto gave a thumbs-up. "Kitchen language is same!"

Makoto and Freshé shared a smile. Makoto led them towards a back part of the kitchen where food preparation mostly took place, and there a lone worker was filling a few crystal bowls with something sugary. Makoto's mouth watered as the scent of ginger and sweets, and ripped off a section of cellophane from a nearby roll. She held out the cellophane and the assistant dutifully scooped a generous portion onto it, and Makoto then brought the edges of the clear wrap up and around, making a pouch, and then tying the top with a ribbon.

"This is for your family," Makoto explained, dropping the package onto Tagoto's hands. She reached back and plucked two pieces from the immense pile and handed them to the pair. "It's candied ginger."

She enjoyed how Tagoto's eyes lit up, as the pair nibbled. "This is fantastic," Freshé said, chewing thoughtfully and then licking the excess sugar from her lips. Tagoto nodded in agreement, too busy chewing. Makoto grabbed a piece for herself. It wasn't bad at all, she had to admit to herself.

They finished their pieces in companionable silence, before Makoto sighed, having surveyed the kitchen and seeing a few dozen areas where she was needed. "If you'll excuse me, ladies," she began, her voice obviously regretful, "I must go back to the preparations for today's brunch. Can you find your own way out?"

"Yes, I believe we can," Freshé replied, bowing lightly.

Tagoto bowed as well. "Your kitchen is great very much!"

Makoto bowed back, and switched to Japanese. "Thank you very much." The pair left with waves and smiles, and Makoto took a moment to watch them go. To her, they seemed to have a happy, normal life. She sighed, a deep, yearning sigh that trailed off wistfully.

Snapping back to attention, she hustled over to help Watanabe finish with the sashimi, tossing off her apron and putting on a new one.

* * *

Minako's fingers drummed on the desk, and Haruka gave her PR Director an annoyed look. "Yes, I understand your position, Himura-san, but you will have to find some other way to achieve that end." She was addressing her Minister of Interior through a screen, glad that he wasn't physically in front of her so she would have to resist the urge to punch him. "I can't condone cutting down trees in that particular national forest to put in a shrine." She had been teleconferencing with the Cabinet member for the last hour and a half and was nearly as grouchy as Himura sounded. Considering he was supposed to be working under the Prime Minister's directives, he was awfully combative, and their meeting was extending well beyond its scheduled hour.

Consequently Minako was kept waiting, and the young blonde was not a patient woman. Haruka wished that Himura was actually giving his report in person so she could use her height advantage to intimidate him into ending their debate, but he was off in the southwest part of the country doing something or other related to his job. And as aggravating as the man was, he was at least on Haruka's side, insofar as he wanted to keep his job. And there were plenty of other Diet members, even in Haruka's own party, who wouldn't even speak to her.

The Prime Minister turned her attention back to Minako, who was now idly doodling on the side of a manila folder. The energetic PR Director was rarely found in one spot for very long, especially in the office. Haruka was heard tell, however, of a time that Minako and Mako-chan had gone shopping together and the vivacious blonde has spent 45 minutes standing in front of a mirror, choosing between two dresses, only to end up buying both.

Haruka decided that she had had enough of Himura, and moved to end the call. "As you can see, I've had Aino-san waiting for 30 minutes, so we must end for today. I will discuss your reports with the other Cabinet members during our afternoon meeting..." At this point the stocky man looked as if he was going to interrupt but Haruka bulled on. "…And we'll see if they can't come up with some viable options." She flipped the switch, and the screen went blank.

Both Haruka and Minako loudly sighed. "I was about to tear my hair out!" Minako cried. "Is he always that boorish and boring?"

Haruka shrugged. "Sometimes he's hardheaded and exasperating." She took off her military jacket, which she made a point to wear during conference calls with men like Himura: all of the medals and commendations made a least a tiny impression. A touch of blue and gold drew her attention and she suddenly remembered something.

"Minako, what is this medal for?" she asked, pointing out the design of a circle with what looked like a trident sticking out of it.

The blonde leaned forward. "Ah, that's from the Astronomical Fellowship, in regards to your increasing the funding for the space exploration program. I believe they're sending a probe to Uranus, which they think is fitting for you."

Haruka raked her brain for what little Greek Mythology she could recall while also trying to shake off the image of a 'probe to Uranus'. "Wait, isn't that the god who got his testicles chopped off?" She made a face. "What a wonderful association."

Minako giggled. "You know it's because of your androgynous looks. Speaking of looks, you approval rating went up 15 with adults ranged in age from 18-24." The PR Director opened her folder—was that a unicorn she doodled?—to glance at some statistics. "My people have determined the causes to be the Astronomical Fellowship's endorsement—very forward-thinking—and the new Ellen Degeneres comedy came out in theaters and people love it."

Haruka raised an eyebrow. "My approval rating went up because of a movie I had nothing to do with?" she asked, incredulously.

"Yep," Minako replied, her voice almost like a cackle. "I love how that happens." She closed her folder—the doodle actually looked more like a chicken—and tossed her hair back. "Thank God you look more like Degeneres-san than, say, George Bush."

Haruka rolled her eyes and glanced at the clock. "Yeah, yeah. Now, what do I need to know about the brunch today?"

Minako nodded and pulled out the other manila folder from an envelope. "The Queen of Arushrain is paying you a visit. We have always had good relations with her and her country, so this is mainly something to show that she still supports you and that recent legislation you passed." She handed the folder to Haruka. "We've gone through the press passes and picked out the embed."

"Does the reporter adhere to the Queen's… tastes?" Haruka asked delicately.

Minako smirked. "Yep, turn the page and I've got a copy of her press pass photo." Haruka did so and found Minako to be completely honest: the woman journalist was actually a knockout, with long black hair and a fiercely beautiful countenance.

Haruka idly flipped through the other pages of information about the Queen and the people she brought with her. The Queen had quite an entourage, and noticeably all female. "Why do I feel like an escort service agent, bringing in attractive young women for my distinguished guests?" she asked.

This time Minako laughed loudly. "You haven't had qualms before because she's the first attractive young woman we've had as opposed to the gangly soccer enthusiast for David Beckham's visit or the wrinkly, old British ex-patriot for the Queen of England." The young blonde took a thoughtful moment. "Though an escort service wouldn't be an unsound financial investment."

Haruka snorted. Embedding journalists into formal functions had been Minako's idea, as a way to present the Tenoh administration as open to criticism as all times. Minako carefully screened each reporter, so Haruka had yet to be terribly burned, though to her it seemed like cheating to pick out the reporter specifically. She had voiced her reservations to Minako, and the bubbly blonde turned unusually serious. "Tenoh-san" she had said, "Your job is to be honest and serve the country. My job is to make people realize that you are doing so and doing a marvelous job at it. As far as I'm concerned we will always be on the defensive so I'm going to need your trust." Haruka took a lesson of trust from long ago and gave it all to Minako, who returned her confidences perfectly. Now, of all of Haruka's "co-workers", Minako was one of the few she counted as a friend.

"So," she began, interrupting Minako from her call-girl company musings. "The embed isn't here yet, or Unazuki would have called, so was there anything you wanted to take care of before we head to the brunch?"

Minako stood and brushed her fingers across her immaculate suit. "I'm actually not coming to the brunch; there are a couple of other things I need to take care of." She lifted her purse and Haruka stood as well. "I'll wait for the embed with you, and then head out."

Haruka nodded, walking over to a tiny closet and putting away her military jacket, pulling a gray coat out instead. She heard a clearing of a throat and looked over her shoulder at Minako, who was shaking her head. "With those shoes?" Sighing, Haruka pulled out a navy sport coat, which got a nod of approval from Minako.

"So how exactly do you get to tell me how to dress?" Haruka groused good-naturedly.

"Because I'm the one actually running the country." Her smile was so devilish that Haruka nearly believed her.

A/N: I love to make references, and usually I don't point them out, because that would be telling people of my bald-faced stealing. But today you get to know that Makoto's chef outfit is brought to you by Lara the Soup Chef from _The L Word_, with a little _Ratatouille_ mixed in.

And, of course, Tagoto and Freshé, Iono-sama, and her entourage are from the excellent manga _Iono the Fanatics_, and all the characters are copyright Miyabi Fujieda. For scanlations of this marvelous yuri comic, look up Dynasty Scans. All their stuff is grrreat.


	4. Her Body

Chapter 4: Her Body

_"Waaaaah!" The child's cries were deafening as she reached for her parent. Usagi thought about holding onto her, but figured that the child would need to let her parent go properly before she left._

_Hotaru's tiny legs carried her to her parent's legs. "Haruka-appa, no gooooo!" Haruka couldn't help but lift the child and hold her, ignoring the tears and snot that were being deposited on her dress uniform. For a moment she held onto her child, looking bewildered at her friend who only shrugged helplessly. _

_Haruka pulled her daughter from her grasp far enough so that she could see her face. Taking a handkerchief from her pocket with one hand while holding her tiny child up with the other arm, she wiped Hotaru's face. "Hey there," Haruka said gently. "Don't be sad, okay? I'll be right back, before you know it." Haruka swallowed, disliking the lie but wanting to believe it herself. She was getting shipped off for another tour of Korea, and she could be gone as long as ten months. The thought of leaving Hotaru behind for that length of time nearly tore her apart, but she had no choice in the matter. The military and state were allowing her to adopt Hotaru on a provisionary basis to begin with, and there was no way Haruka wanted to irk some superior that might take her child away from her. _

_She had begged Usagi to take care of Hotaru during her tour, who had a wonderful family and a younger sister Hotaru could play with. She needn't have begged, for Usagi welcomed the child with open arms and a smiling face so different from the frowns the child had been forced to endure lately. _

_Despite the kindness of her friend and the delicious sweets that Ikuko-mama made every afternoon, Hotaru was still unwilling to be separated from her Haruka-appa. Her tiny hands gripped the wrinkles on the arms of Haruka's jacket. Haruka's heart crumbled with sadness and filled again with love alternately with every sniffle. _

_"Hey, Hotaru-chan," Haruka began, wiping off the last of the tears and drool. She was pleased to see Hotaru's sniffs subside as her daughter raised her eyes, paying attention. "How old are you?"_

_"Seven," Hotaru replied obediently. _

_Haruka rubbed her daughter's cheek. "Wow, you're such a big girl! A big, good girl, right?" Hotaru nodded. "In that case, I need to give you a big girl job until I get back." Her daughter's eyes began to well up again at the mention of her leaving, so Haruka hurriedly handed her daughter her folded up handkerchief, still wet with her tears. "Can you wash this and hold onto it until I get back?" _

_Hotaru automatically took the gift, clutching it in her hands. Haruka pulled some errant black locks behind her daughter's ears. "And if you ever feel sad, you can use it again and remember that your Haruka-appa loves you and will be… home soon." At the last few words, Haruka's voice cracked, unexpectedly overwhelmed. _

_Hotaru's purple eyes swept up to her parent's, and solemnly she brought the handkerchief up to wipe the two stray teardrops that had fallen down Haruka's cheeks. "Do you need this hanky, Haruka-appa?"_

_Haruka's face lit up with a smile that threatened to crack her face in half. "No, hime-chan, all your appa needs is a kiss for her journey."_

_Her daughter, old beyond her years and so, so darling, lightly pecked her parent on the cheek and hugged her around the neck tightly. "Please come home soon," she whispered._

_Haruka held her tightly, trying to memorize her tiny body, and trying to reconcile with the fact that by the time she returned, Hotaru would be so much bigger. _

_"I promise."_

The Prime Minister folded up her handkerchief, putting it back into her pocket after a powerful sneeze. "Lots of people are talking about you, ne?" Minako asked, leaning against Unazuki's desk.

Haruka snorted. "I'm sure you'll tell me exactly who these people are tomorrow."

The blonde winked, and then looked towards the front door where the embed was supposed to show up any minute. Haruka followed her gaze, letting the sunlight and the hustle and bustle of the Sori-daijin-kantei bring her back to the present. Lately she had been too busy to spend time with Hotaru, and consequently she was missing her daughter something fierce. She was grateful for the upcoming concert/dinner. Hotaru normally didn't go to those stuffy affairs, which were almost a daily occurrence for her parent, demanded by her job.

"Thanks for doing that for Hotaru," Haruka said, still gazing off into the distance. She knew that Minako would catch up to her train of thought and know that the Prime Minister was referring to getting Kaioh Michiru to a nearly private concert that her daughter could attend. She heard the PR Director's faint hum in acknowledgement.

She was tuned out for a minute, but not so much that she didn't hear the aggrieved tone of her secretary's voice. "Yes, Mother," Unazuki said, giving Haruka an apologetic and slightly embarrassed face when the Prime Minister turned to find her on the phone. "I'll tell him next time I see him. Yes. Absolutely. Okay, bye." She put the receiver down, giving out a loud sigh that employed her entire body.

Minako turned as well and winced. "Mother giving you grief about Motoki again?" she asked. It was a novice mistake, really, for Unazuki to give her mother the number of her work. It seemed the woman called just as much for the thrill of being patched through a secure line as for the need to lecture her youngest child about the eldest.

Unazuki nodded, looking like she had chewed on something sour. "It's bad enough that he's still working at the arcade, but she finds the most fault in the fact that he hasn't married yet."

Haruka tapped her chin. "He still hasn't popped the question to Reiko-san yet?" She held up a few fingers. "Haven't they been dating for almost four years?"

"Three years and ten months, as Mother just reminded me," Unazuki replied. "And don't think she hasn't given up on me. I might be younger, but she was married by the time she was my age. She thinks my career is hurting my chances."

The three women looked at each other incredulously. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the trio had places in the top five most powerful women in the country, and it was a bit old-fashioned of Unazuki's mother to pigeon-hole her youngest child in such a way. Haruka smiled as they all shared grins, and she watched how Unazuki tossed her red hair as she turned to answer the phone. She was really an attractive young woman, Haruka thought. It won't be long, no matter her working situation.

"Ah, yes," Unazuki turned back. "The embed is here. Shall I let her in?" Haruka turned to Minako and they nodded. Unazuki spoke on the phone and within a moment the front doors were opened by two security guards, and a woman began to walk steadily in.

Haruka's eyed widened as she casually watched the woman enter through the corner of her eyes. The loud _clack clack_ of her red pumps bespoke of an aggressive personality, but the rest of her body moved efficiently, with few of the loose movements that denoted a more pompous individual. The long black hair and white, porcelain face were the same as the press pass photo, as far as Haruka could tell. What the photograph hadn't expressed was the sheer intensity of her presence, however, which Haruka could feel being exuded like a force field, even though she wasn't looking at the woman directly.

"Wow," she heard Unazuki whisper, and Haruka looked up from the convenient papers she was pretending to read. The redhead blew out a breath and shrugged. "I may not go for women, but she almost makes me change my mind."

Haruka finally turned to face the woman fully, seeing Minako follow her example. She felt her eyes adjusting to the sunlight and the dark-haired woman in front of her. She noted how she could almost see the mixing of the reporter's dark energies and Minako's brighter aura in the air around them as the black haired woman entered their space. What surprised her the most, however, was Minako's reaction. Her blonde friend was unusually quiet, since at this point Minako generally took control, beginning a conversation and getting the ball rolling. For the first time Haruka saw that she would have to take the matter into her own hands.

"Hino-san?" she asked politely, though they both already knew that she was aware of her identity. They bowed to each other, and Haruka took note of how the woman didn't lower her eyes.

Haruka saw that Minako still hadn't spoken. "This is my PR Director, Aino Minako, who arranged for this excursion. Let's start walking to the car, ah, thank you Furuhata." Unazuki had handed Haruka a proper pass for the reporter so she wouldn't be waylaid at every checkpoint. Haruka paused for a moment. "By the way, have you got the security details from Grey-san and my schedule prepared for this afternoon?"

"Hai, _Shusho_," Unazuki replied, a professional tone returning to her voice.

Haruka nodded. "Excellent." She turned back to the embed, who was still watching her with the disconcertingly intense gaze. "Now, if you will follow me to the limo, we can get this event underway."

Minako finally seemed to break out of her trance, like a doll suddenly becoming animated. "Yes, Hino-san, _Shusho_, I'll escort you both out."

Haruka somehow managed to hide her grin until she had turned and lead the three of them outside to the waiting limo. She squinted in the sunlight, which managed to hide her mirth for when she opened the door and ushered the reporter in. The black-haired woman nodded and slipped elegantly into the seat, her long hair being the last to enter the car. Haruka moved her body to get in, looking over the door at Minako, who stood there, blinking owlishly in the bright sunlight. She smirked.

"Yes, Hino-san, I'll escort you," Haruka gently ribbed.

Minako winked, and murmured, her voice low enough not to be heard over the hum of the car's engines and into the cab where the reporter sat. "Careful, _Shusho_, I think we have ourselves a fiery one here."

Haruka nodded. "Yeah, she seems… intense. Maybe it's her dark eyes; they're very penetrating." At this point the mirth began to seep back into her voice. "She has such pouty lips; I might be tempted to reveal State secrets. She hasn't even said a word and I'm dying to tell her everything. I better not let her be alone with either of us." She couldn't help herself from smirking.

Minako gripped the top of the door meaningfully, with a look that threatened the squish the Prime Minister in the doorway. "Go before I have to escort you there by hand."

"My hand or her hand?"

Minako pushed on the door and Haruka acquiesced, ducking into the limo as Minako shut them from the outside world.

The limo drove off, and Minako gave a faint wave. "Hmm, so that's what knees are for," she whispered to herself, and then began walking a little unsteadily back into the building.

* * *

Rei shifted until she was comfortable on the black leather seats of the limo, adjusting her waist-length hair over her shoulder. After a brief talk with her PR Director, the Prime Minister sidled in beside her, immediately getting comfortable if her open legs and slumped posture were any indication. Rei took a brief stock of the _Shusho's_ attire, with the relatively casual sport coat and silver watch but no rings. Her light hair was set in its usual flipped state, as if she had just jumped out of a convertible or an open-air jet plane, and Rei wondered if the Prime Minister made judicial use of hair spray in order to maintain that image.

They were seated side-by-side, but there was a good distance between them. The limo began to move, slowly making its way out of the executive grounds and onto the road, where a few police cruisers maintained a tight patrol. The Prime Minister turned to her. "Would you care for some water?" she asked.

Rei took a breath. "Yes, please." Immediately the leader of her country got up from her seat and shuffled to the seats across from them, where a mini-fridge lay close. The blonde woman opened it, pulling out a bottle of water and breaking the seal on it before handing it to the reporter. Rei took it with a bow, trying to take in the implications of _Shusho_ serving her.

The blonde stayed where she was and relaxed, putting her palms on her thighs, facing Rei. The reporter said nothing, and merely watched the tall woman blandly. She had found in her limited experience that most people would grow uncomfortable in such silence and speak unnecessarily, revealing more than if Rei had asked a question.

If the Prime Minister was uncomfortable, she didn't show it, but she did speak. "Now that we are alone, do you have anything you'd like to know?"

Rei was a little bit wary of such candor. "No."

"No preconceived questions?" ­_Shusho_ gazed at her. "I would think that a journalist, given a chance to speak one-on-one with the Prime Minister, would have an avalanche of questions."

Rei gave a tiny shrug. "I have plenty of preconceived biases, _Shusho_, but I prefer to limit my questions in order to allow my interviewee to speak their thoughts."

"Please, call me Haruka," the Prime Minister said. "And if you don't have any questions, may I ask you one?"

Rei inclined her head. "As you wish."

Haruka leaned an elbow on the armrest and laid her chin on her fist. "What are your preconceived biases?"

Rei felt her eye twitch just once, an unconscious reaction to the words she was about to say. "My father is Diet Member Hino." She hoped that saying that much and giving a dour face would be enough for the Prime Minister, but the tall woman still gazed at her, as if expecting more answer. Rei's eye twitched again when she realized that her own methods were being used against her, but she allowed herself to continue. "Because of his behaviors and actions throughout my life, I have a tendency to mistrust and dislike politicians."

"I have met the man." Haruka's eyes half closed as if mulling the information over, becoming like two flints of jade. "Did you become a journalist to be closer to him?" she asked, finally.

Rei could feel her muscles completely locking as she sat, rigid with shock and a little affront. "No, I became a reporter because I care for the truth. Spending my life divining the truth would be the only acceptable way for me to live." Despite her words, however, Rei's thoughts were in chaos as she attempted to understand this new, foreign perspective. Frowning, knowing that such an action would be transparent to her interviewee-turned-interviewer, she changed the subject.

"Isn't that secretary of yours a major security issue?" Haruka's eyebrow rose. "If she wanted to, she could seriously coordinate some sort of attack, or even simply blackmail you or betray you or sell your secrets to the enemy. I'm assuming that she is in charge of the entirety of your schedule and has access to every floor plan and seating arrangement."

Haruka looked out the window, hand on her chin in her usual thoughtful pose that had been photographed many times before. "That is true. And my security advisors raise the issue at every meeting." The tall blonde stretched out her legs. "But how can I be able to trust two or more aides, if I can't trust only one? Anyway, it's a moot point because Unazuki was recommended by a close friend and that's good enough for me."

Rei's curiosity made her lean forward. "Is that all? I mean, I understand trusting your friend's judgment, but isn't there a point where it's reckless?"  
Rei almost flinched when green eyes turned to her, but they weren't angry or annoyed, but instead regarded her with a thoughtful expression. "Indeed, my friend is overly trusting. But I think that trust engenders more loyalty, and in the end, I guess I simply have to trust my instincts." She turned back to the window but she still observed Rei through her peripheral vision, a fact of which the journalist was aware.

The black-haired girl nodded. It was true that no matter how many fail-safes there were, one person could unhinge it all. Trusting wasn't even an option, it was necessary, and hoping that one's instincts are sharp enough to detect insurrection was all a body could do.

Subject change. "So I was invited to this brunch between yourself and the Queen of Arushrain. What do you hope to accomplish during this meeting between two heads of state?" Rei had her notepad out and ready.

Haruka rattled off her standard answers, reciting from countless diplomatic speeches exactly what she was to say. Rei didn't even bother to write them down, and merely doodled on her writing pad.

She politely waited for Haruka to take a breath and asked the first question to pop into her head, and she felt comfortable enough with the Prime Minister to ask it. "Why has your office invited me? I have a few credentials, but I don't think that being head obituary writer and assistant to the politics editor would qualify me for visiting foreign heads of state."

"Officially, you are the only reporter invited because this is meant to be an almost social meeting to help foster good relations between two heads of state. Unofficially, she hates men and politics." Rei felt her eyebrows rise towards her hairline as the Prime Minister suddenly got her full attention.

"Pardon?" she asked.

Haruka did a small wave, as if dismissing something trivial. "Well, the Queen has certain... aesthetic values that we try to adhere to as much as possible. For example, most of the staff today will be female, simply because she feels more comfortable around our own sex." Rei could feel a coil of heat starting in her neck and going up, her face stiffly frozen in a polite look of bland interest though inwardly she was beginning to seethe. The Prime Minister continued quickly, as if hoping to overload Rei with information to avoid an immediate outburst. "And she has a preference for ladies with long, black hair, so uh, along with your credentials, you were the best choice."

If looks could cut, Haruka would have been very politely, but most definitely, sectioned into several dozen bloody pieces.

* * *

Haruka pulled at the collar of her shirt, still roasting from Hino Rei's fiery ire that radiated from her for the rest of their trip to the park where the brucnh was the be held, ever since Haruka told her the ulterior reasons for her invitation. Haruka honestly didn't know what else to say; the reporter obviously had good instincts for the truth, and Haruka had never been a particular adept liar. Hopefully a few minutes away would give the reporter a little time to cool down and maybe even appreciate Haruka's honesty. Though the Prime Minister feared for her safety a little when Hino had narrowed her eyes in a dangerous manner, her hands gripping her pad and pen with deadly intent, and Haruka felt it prudent to give the reporter a moment to cool off.

She got an update from some aide that none of the Queen's party had arrived, and Haruka didn't want to interrupt Makoto while in the throes of chaos that occurred right before the meal, so she got an okay from security to walk around the small area of the park that had been sectioned off for the brunch, leaving Hino-san to relax in the shade of a tree. There was a lake, and Haruka made a beeline for it, staying in the shade, away from the early summer sun.

The lake was beautiful this time of year, especially since the cherry trees were in bloom. A time of year for goodbyes and new beginnings, Haruka thought, taking a deep breath of the fresh gust of wind that rattled the branches above her and sent cherry blossoms flurrying.

"_Shusho_," she heard someone say, and there was Elsa, the head of her secret service. The tall, lean woman had on her ever-present sunglasses and earpiece, and she bowed quickly. "There is a woman here to see you. She has clearance from Aino-san, but I wanted to clear it with you first."

Haruka stopped leaning on the tree. "Who is it?" she asked. Elsa turned, but was interrupted.

"Kaioh Michiru," said a feminine voice.

A woman stepped closer, and Prime Minister felt her eyes widen and stare.

During that last tour of war, Haruka was based along the east coast of the Korean peninsula. At night, she would sit along the cliffs, looking across the sea and knowing that her home and Hotaru were just over the horizon. She would play Kaioh Michiru's music on her personal music player, feeling homesick for the first time in her life. In her mind, she couldn't envision Kaioh as a person, but rather as a set of articulate fingers, somehow attached to a passionate heart and a living violin. Kaioh's body was the ocean in front of her, the moonlight glittering off its waves and the crash of those waves on the cliff face below was her measured, unhurried breathing.

The woman in front of her almost looked to be risen from that very memory, from that very place. The wind had gusted, surrounding her in a swirl of blossoms, but the waves of her sea-green hair shone through the haze. Her steps were graceful and sure, and her hands that were held in front of her, lightly clutching a purse, had tapered, elegant fingers. Her long, lissome arms hung from delicate shoulders, their creamy whiteness revealed by a dress that draped around her refined neck.

Haruka felt stupefied, and hardly noticed that she had leaned back onto the tree for balance. Kaioh Michiru didn't seem to detect Haruka's wildly blank mind, and continued to walk closer until they were only a few feet apart. Haruka felt accosted by the blue-eyed gaze, and felt out of touch with reality save for the insistent tug of the wind buffeting her back.

"Tenoh-san," Kaioh began, her voice both mature and lilted and her gaze a candid appraisal. "I would like to paint you."

* * *

A/N: Finally, she appears! Is it déjà vu or plagiarism?

I thank the reviewers that clamored for Michiru to show up, and I realize that to be an H/M romance, one needs to introduce the romantic interest by some point! I tend to drag, so I wasn't planning on having them meet here, but it needed to be done.

I'm having a fun time trying to juggle all the characters. I'm sure this fun will bite me in the butt later. I look forward to that tangled web.


	5. The Script

Chap 5: The Script

Kaioh Michiru's words seemed to break the spell she had placed on Haruka, and the Prime Minister straightened. Taking her deliberate time, Haruka bowed low to the musician, giving herself a half moment to breathe. When she straightened, she felt more balanced and saw Kaioh-san rising from a bow of her own.

"It is an honor to meet you," Haruka said, truthfully, but not betraying the strange swirl of emotions that the sight of this woman caused in her within her own facial expression. "I did not know that you painted."

Kaioh-san smiled. "I dabble," she replied. "Usually I paint when I am struck by a sight I feel the need to capture." She tilted her head, and Haruka resisted the urge to raise her eyebrows at the coy gesture. "I was struck just now by the image of you, in this picturesque setting, and your body being the focal point of a vortex of wind. These elements would look superb on canvas."

"I'm fortunate," Haruka began, "To have an excellent relationship with the wind. I blame it for the entirety of my photogenic luck."

Haruka felt a chill run down the back of her neck when she realized that they were bantering, and saw the answering gleam in the other woman's tiny smirk. "Oh, but the wind is invisible, and despite its efforts you are still only as good looking as you are," the musician replied. Her voice was like the sound of water flowing over rounded stones.

"The wind cannot change my appearance," Haruka conceded, "but it does always make me appear to have just jumped off of a plane. It is very politically advantageous to appear to be doing something."

"It is good of the wind to provide you with such artistically functional appearance. I sometimes feel like the wind has nothing better to do than tangle my hair."

Haruka grinned, letting a little of her flirtatious nature seep into her voice. "I was fortunate in that, as you approached, the wind used your lovely hair to slowly reveal your face. If I had seen the entirety of your beauty in the first moment I might have been stunned."

Kaioh Michiru laughed lightly, conceding the point and this match. It was such a feminine laugh that Haruka strained her ears to hear more of it. "You are such a good flatterer, _Shusho_, that I can see how you may become a successful politician."

"Alas, I actually practice these lines every day," Haruka said, sighing theatrically. "I may have said these exact words to the matriarch of the Mitsubishi family last week."

The musician laughed again. "You must practice diligently, for I have heard stories of you whisking helpless young maidens away on sunset flights on your jet." She was referring to a tiny joke in a teen magazine that had exploded into a full out frenzy as teen girls elevated their Prime Minister to 'Idol' status with thousands of letters begging to be taken for romantic, seaside cruises on her fighter plane. The jest had been given a thumbs-up by Minako. 'Positive approval points!' the blonde repeated like a mantra.

"Unfortunately, the military got wise to me and took away the keys to my F-16," Haruka said. "Now I have only my motorcade, which is a little too boring for most helpless young maidens."

The green haired woman paused, then smiled enigmatically. "Fortunately, while I may be helpless, I am not a young maiden," she said, the cadence of her words making Haruka pause. Normally, this game would go on for several more minutes until the other woman would blush, turn away, and change the conversation of the topic to something less flirty. In this instance, Haruka was stopped cold. Where did the conversation go from here?

Elsa, ever the lifesaver, stepped in from wherever she had disappeared. "_Shusho_, I've been informed that the Queen has arrived." The Prime Minister turned, and faced Elsa, and in doing so found her own face a little hot from a mysterious blush.

"Thank you, Elsa," Haruka said, and turned to the musician. "I would invite you to this brunch, but the head chef may have my skin if I added another mouth to feed, the coordinator would be in a huff for having to add another chair, and the Queen may be a bit upset to have her position next to me usurped by a beautiful woman who happened to wander in."

Kaioh Michiru smiled. "I could not accept such a gracious invitation anyway, as I have other obligations. Enjoy your meeting and I will see you next week, Tenoh Haruka-san." And with that, she elegantly but abruptly turned and walked away.

The Prime Minister blinked again, unaccustomed to this strange behavior. She stood a moment, watching the musician walk away, and tried to determine why she felt so unsettled. Elsa cleared her throat, making Haruka remember where she was, and turning, walked back to the clearing, finding Hino Rei still in her chair under the shade, watching the arriving delegation with keen interest.

"Are you prepared, Hino-san?" Haruka asked as she stopped beside the seated reporter.

The black-haired woman turned her whole head to look at the Prime Minister, and then stood up, head still slightly craned to view the taller woman's face. "Yes," she said simply, traces of her earlier annoyance covered over with a professional veneer. "I'm prepared to meet Queen Iono; please lead the way."

Haruka smiled as she offered the reporter her arm, which was refused with a wave of the hand. "Well, if she becomes too much to handle," Haruka began, gesturing to Hino to walk beside her as they began to make their way to the tables, "Just tell her you prefer rakish blondes."

The Prime Minister chortled as she detected the faint rolling of the reporter's eyes.

* * *

_"Ne, Haruka-kun, what are you doing this afternoon?"_

_Haruka looked up from her book to find Hisuragi Asuka standing beside her, hands behind her back and head tilted flirtatiously. She gazed down at the short, brown-haired girl, noting the way her tie had been pulled loose and the top two buttons of her school uniform undone. She had ribbons braided in her hair, and with her thin face and formidable bust, Asuka was considered one of the prettier girls at school, and was fairly popular to boot. Along with her appearance, Haruka also noted the gaggle of girls on the other side of the street, trying to look casual but obviously watching them._

_Haruka didn't move from her perch, casually leaning against a bench, one hand in her pocket and the other one holding a small novel. "I will probably catch this bus, go home, and do my homework," she answered._

_Asuka pouted. "You should come out with us," she said, vaguely pointing at the other girls who were now trying to look beautiful and prepossessed. "We're going to do some karaoke, if you'd like to join us. It'll be just you and us girls."_

_The tall blonde felt a sudden exhaustion. It was one thing for her to maintain her flirtatious nature all day at school, but the thought of being amazingly charming to this group for a few hours more made her weary. Asuka must have noted Haruka's reluctance, for she grabbed Haruka's arm, the one with her hand in the pocket, and clutched it to her chest, rubbing Haruka's elbow between her breasts. Haruka blinked in surprise at the feel of the other girl's heartbeat against the back of her arm._

_"Please, Haruka-kun, it'll be fun," she pleaded, looking up at Haruka through her lashes._

_Haruka pulled her arm carefully from Asuka's barely yielding grasp, but took the shorter girl's hand. "I would love to, but I am terribly exhausted and must prepare my body for the track meet this weekend." She squeezed the girl's fingers, and then brought her knuckles to her lips for a quick, chivalric kiss. "Perhaps some other time, when I have the energy to truly please you."_

_Asuka looked happily dazed, nodding before taking her hand back, waving and then sprinting across the road back to her gaggle. Haruka watched as she immediately began to tell her friends about how the charming Haruka-kun had been: so gentlemanly, so flirtatious, how she had touched her there and kissed her there. Their giggles and shrieks could be heard over the traffic between them, and Haruka was glad that her bus was now arriving. _

_Hopping onto the bus, Haruka watched the girls as they, as one unit, began to walk down the street, not one looking back. She knew that none of them would approach her at school, and that Hisuragi-san would not offer again. The shorter girl just wanted someone to flirt with, someone to make her feel feminine and wanted and, most importantly, do so in front of her friends. Haruka was a girl, they knew, but she was also safe because their interaction was closely monitored, and nothing untoward happened. She knew these girls, because they were every girl around her, and by now Haruka was truly realizing that she was going to lead a life filled with empty flirtations. _

_A man, without the overriding testosterone: that was what they wanted, and all they wanted to see in her._

_When the woman in uniform came to visit her a few weeks later, she was straightforward. They wanted her drive, her physical prowess, her sharp intelligence, her family connection. They made no mention of her gender, and offered her wings with which to fly. _

_It was hardly a decision at all. Upon graduation, Haruka joined the Japanese Air Force._

* * *

A/N: This was undoubtedly the hardest chapter to write of all time. So many rewrites and switching around, and I finally decided to just trust in the readers to go with me. I'm sure that I will be aggravated in the future by what I've laid out in this chapter. The next chapter will be coming out faster, I promise.


	6. Tiny Fires

Chapter 6: Tiny Fires

Rei slid the door to her room open, automatically opening her closet, pulling out her futon, and then collapsing onto it. Even her purse fell to the bed beside her, testimony to her exhausting day. Rei had suffered through such indignities before in her line of work, being an attractive woman who mainly interviewed men, but she wasn't prepared to handle such blatant overtures from a woman as she had suffered at the hands of Queen Iono Mito Ashurain. When she wasn't furiously thinking up ways to continually deny the Queen's offers to be a _sobame_—whatever the hell that was—the Prime Minister was unhelpfully either flirting with her or lauding her finer traits as if she were up for auction. Rei, on more than one occasion, had to resist the urge to grind her heel into Haruka-san's feet.

There was a break, and Rei took the chance to escape for a few minutes, making her way behind a food trailer. She bummed a cigarette from a waiter and took a few puffs before watching it burn.

"_I'm surprised," someone said, and Rei jumped a little, dropping the impressive inch-long piece of ash that had clung to the end of the cigarette. She turned to find a young woman, about her age, whom she recognized as one of the Queen's "sobame", and though this one sat directly beside the Queen, she was the quietest, peacefully eating her meal and listening to the conversations. She had an open, honest face. "I wasn't expecting such a beautiful woman to indulge in such an activity." Charmingly, she adjusted her glasses._

_Rei dropped the remains of the cigarette and ground it with her heel before picking up the butt and tossing it lightly into the waste receptacle about ten feet away. "The fire calms me," she explained gruffly, not sure whether this woman had any of the Queen's persistently flirtatious nature. _

"_The fire is part of your spirit, Hino-san" the woman said flatly, making a statement instead of forming a question. Rei looked at her for a moment, trying to remember her name, which she couldn't really catch because when the Queen introduced her, she had done so with her mouth pressed against the other woman's cheek. _

_Rei decided to remember that she was a journalist. "I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name?"_

_The woman rolled her eyes behind her glasses, and then bowed. "My name is Hachibe Eto," she said._

_Rei took a moment to ponder the name, then winced. Hachibe-san nodded. "Yes, I've gotten "Careless Hachibe" jokes my whole life. And then I get judged based on a TV character from a cheesy samurai drama! Thank God most of the people in the home country aren't clued into that particular Japanese pop culture fact."_

_Rei nodded. "So you are Japanese, Hachibe-san?" she asked, already guessing the answer from the other woman's accent and face shape._

"_Yes, I was raised here," Hachibe replied. "And please, call me Eto."_

"_Only if you call me Rei," the reporter said in kind. "What made you go to Ashurain?" she asked, her innate curiosity getting the better of her._

_Eto smiled. "Iono-sama kidnapped me." At Rei's raised eyebrow, she continued. "It's true! I sat at a café, drinking some coffee beside this crazy woman who seemed to be obsessed with picking up chicks." She chuckled, a bit ruefully. "Little did I know that she would literally sweep me off my feet."_

"_So, she's always like this?" Rei asked. She was hoping that the Queen was merely toying with her, and not truly such a flake._

_Eto looked at her hands and Rei realized that this was somewhat of a sore spot for the sobame. "Iono-sama has a lot of room in her head devoted to the happiness of her _sobame_, as well as the swelling of their ranks. But," and at this turn, the reporter watched Eto physically set her shoulders, "she never forgets that she is Queen, and she honestly believes it to be her privilege to take care of her country."_

_Rei took a step closer. She was suddenly seized by a thought._

"_Do you think Tenoh-shusho is like that?" she asked._

_The other woman gave a slight smile, seemingly grateful for a change of topic. "Honestly," Eto replied, "I think Haruka-san has a deeper level, and has devoted herself entirely to the country. What little she has to herself is given to her daughter." She looked thoughtful. "At least Iono-sama has a hobby in which she escapes the pressures of her job, at least for a while. At least she has me."_

_Eto blushed at the possessiveness of her own tone and Rei gave her a reassuring smile. "What do you think?" Eto asked._

_Rei quirked her mouth. "I think that Shusho has a deeper layer, one that is thoughtful and caring." She grinned. "And then she has a third, even deeper level. And that one is the same as the top, shallow one."_

"_Like a pie?" Eto asked, a bemused smile on her face._

"_Exactly!" _

Spending a few moments with Eto-san calmed Rei, and she was able to return to the luncheon with a bit more levity. The Queen and Prime Minister had settled as well, and Rei managed to catch snippets of their conversations over a few foreign policies. The most relevant or newsworthy seemed to be the Queen's support of the Prime Minister's bid for a troop surge to quell some gathering unrest on the Korean Peninsula. Rei wasn't privy to all—or really, any—of the military intelligence, but certain channels were talking of some growing Communist uprisings. It shocked her still how the old regime held on to the old ways, though she admitted she could not imagine being thrust from the dark age into a modern world that, overall, seemed unwilling to help.

Rei sighed gustily, before dragging herself up to her desk, pulling her laptop from a slightly hidden cabinet, flipping it open and on. She knew she needed to write down as much as she could remember from the brunch, and then start to process it into some sort of news story. For comfort, she dragged a corner of her futon over to ease the pain of her butt on the floor.

"Rei?" Her grandfather's voice drifted through the thin paper door, and Rei bid him in, more to reward him for 'knocking'—a habit that had taken her seventeen years to train him into—than for any enthusiasm to speak with him. She gave him an acknowledging eye before returning to her typing.

Her short and bald Ojii-chan—in fact, Rei had never known him to look any different, no matter how far back she recalled—shuffled into the room in his house slippers and priest robe, hands clasped behind his back. He did not interrupt her typing, not even clearing his throat to get his granddaughter's attention. After a minute, Rei noticed his unusual silence, and eased her fingers off her keyboard. "Yes, Ojii-chan?"

His wide face broke into a friendly smile. "How was work today?" he asked. Rei took a deep breath, remembering the excitement she had felt and was unable to hide from her grandfather when she received word of her assignment.

She searched for a succinct way to describe her day. "Exhausting," she finally said. At her grandfather's expectant look, she exhaled loudly. "Aaaaand Queen Iono is very… outgoing."

"And _Shusho_?" he asked, obviously impatient with Rei's description and cutting to the chase. Rei felt her cheeks overcome her weariness and lift into a fond smile. Her grandfather was a fan of the Prime Minister, ever since witnessing her press conferences. 'She's got fighting spirit,' he had said, nodding approvingly.

Rei pursed her lips, trying to think of a way to describe Haruka in ways that didn't include the words 'perverted', 'outrageous', or 'silly'. "She's very flirtatious," she began, noting her grandfather's nod. _A woman after his own heart_, she thought with a grin. "She's very good at balancing her diplomatic duties with entertaining her guests, and she has a very outgoing persona."

She furrowed her brow. "But I wonder… if she can separate herself from that persona. Or if that has become her personality. It's so convincingly shallow that I wonder if there's even any substance beneath all that charm."

Ojii-chan chuckled. "Your quest for the truth is always inspirational to an old man like me." He patted her hand, and then turned to leave, but not before saying, "You'll burn away all the excess until you have come to the solid core. That is what you have inherited from your father, though your lives have taken much different paths." He closed the thin paper door. "Dinner will be a little late tonight, as I have a funeral to preside, Rei. See you at 8."

The ex-miko stared after him. Twice in one day she had been confronted by association with her father; once by her Ojii-chan, who knew her better than anyone alive, and once by that aggravating Haruka-san.

She needed a moment to collect her jumbled thoughts, so she closed her laptop and put it away. Going back into her closet, she pulled out her miko uniform, perfectly pressed. Shrugging it on, like a well-worn second skin, she padded, barefoot, into the room of the sacred fire. She kneeled, and thought deeply upon the flame, descending—or perhaps, ascending—into a place in which her spirit was free from the pressures of the mortal world and she could meditate on what she had learned and where to go from there. Like little bulbs of light, the events of the day floated around her consciousness and she slowly but deliberately began to sort them.

* * *

Ami felt déjà vu as she listened to the quiet hum of the elevator that would bring her to the Prime Minister's office. The doors opened to reveal the gray hallway, glass-lined offices framing each side until a conference room opened up to the left. The evening sun once again cast its red glow on the room, and the Prime Minister sat in her customary chair.

She leaned with her elbow on the table, fist on her chin, regarding a figure in the seat beside her. It seemed to be a young woman, animatedly talking and acting very familiar with the Prime Minister. She wore casual clothing, and her blonde hair was done up in two long pigtails.

For a half second Ami allowed herself to guess who the young woman was. A possible love interest? There were rumors about Tenoh-_shusho_, considering her background, masculine appearance and lack of husband, but the rumors simply circulated without proof. Her thought-process was cut short as the pair noticed her arrival. They both abruptly stood, but not in a way as if they were hiding or embarrassed, so Ami discarded her idle hypothesis.

"Ami-san," _Shusho_ greeted. "Welcome back to my office! Thank you again for coming." The tall blonde ushered her friend and the doctor closer together. "Mizuno Ami, this is my friend Tsukino Usagi. You remember her younger sister, Chibiusa, from your last visit?"

"Very nice to meet you, Tsukino-san" Ami said, bowing slightly. "I hope Chibiusa-chan did not get sick as she feared?"

"Ah, please, Mizuno-sensei, call me Usagi," the young woman said, sketching a hasty bow. She had long blonde hair done in a similar style to her younger sister's, but her healthy looking locks descended much farther. She had the same wide eyes and open face, and Ami saw that the slightly chubby cheeks were not something Chibiusa was going to grow out of, if her sister's cute face were any indication. "And, no, other than a bit of a sore throat, Chibiusa is just fine. If you had anything to do with that, then I thank you."

"And I wish to be called Ami," the blue haired doctor replied in kind. "And I think your younger sister has a strong constitution on her own."

Usagi smiled warmly. "I hope she has one, since she demanded to be with Hotaru for her check-up. Will there be any dangerous instruments?"

Ami nodded. "I will be taking a few blood samples," she replied, and was a little surprised to see the Prime Minister noticeably wince.

"I hate needles," the leader of their country explained, rubbing the back of her head. "Can't you just cut off a finger or something and take that back?"

Bemused, the doctor turned to the shorter blonde, who nodded. "Yep, Haruka hates needles. Back in the army days she said they had to put her under to give her vaccinations!" Usagi giggled, lightly patting Haruka's arm when the woman pouted.

"They didn't have to put me under," she said in a tone to suggest that her pride was injured. "They simply had to hold me down. Totally different thing."

Ami smiled, enjoying the friendly teasing, especially when it wasn't directed at her. Her face had had enough of a shock from all the blushing she did last time. "Shall we, Haruka-san?" she asked, congratulating herself for remembering to refer to the Prime Minister by her first name, and she was also rewarded with a warm smile from the tall blonde.

"Yes, but Hotaru is first. Will the dining room at home be suitable?" Ami nodded, knowing that a familiar setting would help make this first appointment go smoothly. The trio headed down the hall, back onto the elevator, and emerged in the red hallway that led to the Prime Minister's abode. Hotaru and Chibiusa were already waiting, with the younger girl protectively holding the dark teen's hand. After a few pleasantries, Ami felt herself set to Mizuno-sensei Mode, and began the examination.

Ami narrowed her focus to only the girl in front of her, and the feeling of other people surrounding them faded. She took a moment to note Hotaru's pale—though not unhealthily pale—skin, and noted the evenness of her features. In a few years, the young Prime Minister's daughter would be a fetching young woman. Dark and purple to her parent's gold and blue, Hotaru shared little resemblance to Haruka, except her build suggested that she would be a bit taller than average. As a doctor, Ami did not see racial irregularities, but briefly wondered at how Hotaru's life would be different due to her heritage. And would it matter that she looked nothing like her parent?

Thousands of psychological and psychosomatic possibilities spun through Ami's mind, even as she meticulously checked Hotaru's ears, eyes, heart, and lungs. She checked the flexibility of the girl's limbs and joints, and when she pulled out the needle, wasn't surprised when the Prime Minister jumped.

Surprisingly, it was Hotaru who reached out to lay a comforting hand on the tall woman's arm. "Don't worry, Haruka-_appa_," she said, her delicate fingers lightly gripping the powerful forearm. Ami recognized the foreign word, but didn't react to it, merely observing the parent's reaction. She saw Usagi-san in turn lightly touch the back of Hotaru's shoulder, and Ami could easily see the circle of support that existed within this group, the chain of love exchanged from arm to shoulder and culminating in Hotaru and Chibiusa's clasped hands. It was all very subdued, and the moment was over quickly and quietly, but Ami felt a small warm glow inside at seeing a happy family, and knowing that such support always leads to faster healing.

About an hour later, Ami put away her tools, including the precious vials that held the Prime Minister's and her daughter's blood samples. While Hotaru had barely reacted when Ami efficiently inserted the needle and withdrew the maroon-colored blood, it had taken quite a few minutes of the doctor begging, cajoling, and bribing the older blonde woman before _Shusho_ gave out, allowing the blood to be drawn by, to her, the incredibly frightening needle. Fortunately Ami had had quite a bit of experience with patients who were unreceptive to needles—mainly children—and she had devised several methods to achieve cooperation. Strangely, all it took was the promise of going directly to the kitchen to get a cookie to get the Prime Minister to settle down.

The two sisters had left, Usagi citing the need to get Chibiusa to bed early for school, the younger one revealing that her older sister's favorite TV show was coming on soon. Only slightly abashed, Usagi hustled them both out, Haruka utilizing one of the many phones throughout the residence to call for a car to take the pair home. Hotaru had excused herself to finish her homework, and so it was with only the Prime Minister that Ami entered the kitchen

Ami should have been prepared for it, but she felt suddenly shy when she saw the Head Kantei Chef pulling at the drawstrings of a large bag. "Mako-chan!" Haruka called, and the brunette looked up, wisps of hair escaping her ponytail, falling down to frame her face, revealing rose earrings. The sleeves of her chef coat were rolled up to her elbows, and the top buttons were undone, revealing a white undershirt and defined collarbone. This tiny flash of skin made Ami blush, even though she saw naked people every day.

"Good evening, Haruka-san," Makoto replied, smiling in greeting while still tying the bag, which seemed to be full of dirty rags. Ami waved quietly, not one for loud announcements of her presence, and when Makoto glanced at her, the chef fumbled the strings, seeming to have lost her place. The flustered, rueful look on her face as she concentrated on tying and her voice meekly saying, "Good evening, Ami-san," made Ami unconsciously grin, a fact unnoticed by herself until she turned and saw Haruka grinning as well before turning to Makoto. She blinked and turned her attention back to the chef, subduing her expression.

"Did Chibiusa leave us any of those cookies you put out?" Haruka asked without preamble.

"No," Makoto replied, grinning and laying her bundle against a stainless steel table. The two women's deep voices seemed to echo into every corner of the strangely quiet kitchen, as the entire area was devoid of staff and every inch of it gleamed cleanly in the fluorescent lights. "However, I set some aside that she never clapped her eyes on, so that there would be some left for you," she reassured, reaching to a tall shelf and pulling down a plastic container. She pulled off the lid and showed the container to the Prime Minister, who ogled the contents with undisguised eagerness and pulled out a large cookie.

Ami's heart skipped a beat when Makoto winked at her. "_Shusho_ is such a cookie hound," she confided, and the tall blonde did not argue, too busy closing her eyes and relishing the first bite of her confection. "Ami-san, please have one," Makoto offered.

Ami didn't need any more urging, having caught a whiff of the delicious smell emanating from the container, and she gingerly pulled a chocolate chip cookie, noting the soft texture of it as well as the chef's strong fingers, holding the container lightly. She spared a look up at Makoto's face, who encouraged her with a nod. Biting into the chocolate-y goodness, her eyes closed immediately at the wave of deliciousness that flooded her mouth. She barely restrained a groan of appreciation, nearly wolfing down the rest of cookie. Her mind swirled with wonder, but the first question out of her mouth was, "Where did you learn to make this?" Ami's eyes widened at her rudeness, having nearly sprayed the chef with crumbs.

Makoto put the container down on the counter and reached for the nearby fridge, pulling out some soy milk and pulling two glasses from a shelf. "I learned the recipe when I was young," she replied. She poured two glasses and offered them up, both women gladly washing down the rich cookies. "In California there was a neighbor, an old woman who had two of her grandchildren living with her. She would invite the neighborhood kids over for cookies, and when I asked to help her one day, she taught me how." She took the now empty glasses and put them on the stainless steel table. "I used her recipe to win a baking contest when I went to culinary school in New York."

"Oh, so you're American?" Ami asked, keenly interested. She had applied for internships in the United States, but had been denied for one reason or another. Like most Japanese, she was curious as to how Japan was viewed by other countries. "How do you like it in Tokyo?"

Makoto shrugged. "I like it well enough. The restaurant business is very male-dominated in America as well, so I found I wasn't getting very far there, either, so I thought I might as well enjoy the country of my parents. I was fortunate to have a good mentor in Wakame Maguro. He guided me through a lot of my many social faux pas and…" She suddenly stopped, mouth clamping closed, as if embarrassed to have spoken at so much length.

Ami smiled, not knowing that her tiny smile of encouragement was well known amongst her fellow doctors to be exceptionally attractive. "How were you able to win this prestigious job?" she asked, honestly enjoying the deep timbre of the cook's voice.

Makoto blushed. "A while ago, Haruka-san came to the restaurant I was working at and demanded to meet me. Two years later, when she became _Shusho_, she gave me a call."

Ami blinked when she realized that she had nearly forgotten the Prime Minister was there, and turned to find Haruka benignly nibbling on a cookie, seeming content to simply nod in agreement. The young doctor turned back to the chef. "Well, from what I enjoyed last week, your cooking is phenomenal."

Seeing the blush increase on Makoto's face warmed Ami on the inside. "Uh, were you hungry?" Makoto asked, obviously falling onto standard politeness practices. She made a move as if to open the nearby fridge.

Ami was actually hungry, having had only a light dinner several hours earlier, but she didn't want to make the chef dirty up the obviously spotless and closed kitchen. "Ah, no thank you," she said, regretting it immediately when her stomach made known its emptiness and when she saw the Head Kantei Chef deflate slightly. Ami realized that she would have had at least a good half hour more time with Makoto if only she had been willing, and she mentally slapped her forehead. Too late to renege now. "I, uh, should actually get going now," she finished, mentally slapping herself again for sounding like a nervous teenager.

"What are your plans for Tuesday?" Ami was pulled from her mulling by the Prime Minister's voice. "I'm hosting a military government something-or-other function, but Kaioh Michiru will be performing. Would you care to come?"

Ami's eyes widened. A small concert featuring none other than the hyper-reclusive Kaioh Michiru? Even the young doctor knew of her prowess and fame. She unconsciously gazed at Makoto's earring while her mind flickered over her calendar. "I am scheduled to work," she said slowly. "However, I'm sure I can convince the other doctors to let me go. They would consider it an attempt on my part to garner more government funding for the hospital."

"Excellent," Haruka said, rubbing her palms together. Evincing casualness, she added. "And Makoto will be there, of course, working. But I'm also making her enjoy herself at least a little bit." The satisfaction that Ami had felt in arranging her schedule magnified with this new fact. Ami chose not to overanalyze that feeling.

The Prime Minister turned to her personal chef. "Mako-chan, could you escort Ami-san out the back entrance? I'll have two cars waiting for you."

Makoto bowed. "Of course, _Shusho_. And thank you for the transportation," she said, picking up the two empty milk glasses and taking them to a sink.

"I'll get that," Haruka said, lightly pushing at Makoto's shoulder. "It's been a long day and you'll have to be back here early." After a playful hip check, Makoto relented, and bent to pick up the large bag of rags.

"Please follow me, Ami-san," Makoto requested, hefting the bag and walking towards the back of the kitchen. "Goodnight, Haruka-san," she called over her shoulder, and Ami waved as well. The Prime Minister waved back before turning to the two dirty glasses, and the last image Ami had of her was the tall blonde casting about for a sponge.

Ami gripped her medical kit, trying not to jostle it while trying to keep up with Makoto's long strides. The tall chef stopped at an elevator, pressing the button, and then seemed surprised to find Ami straggling behind. She picked up a backpack that was lying by the large doors, laying down the large bag to swing the straps of the backpack over her shoulders. "Would you like for me to carry your bag?" Makoto asked politely. Ami shook her head, not wanting to burden Makoto with her somewhat unwieldy bag of medical supplies when the chef was already hoisting a heavy bag of rags that was about the size of a Chibiusa.

The elevator doors opened, and Ami observed how this was definitely a service elevator, noting the very different scents between her current location and the golden tinged elevator at the front of the building. She turned her eyes away quickly when she saw Makoto's forearm muscles ripple when the brunette lifted the heavy bag.

They reached the bottom quickly and Ami was surprised to see that night had fully fallen. Beside her, Makoto hefted the bag of dirty cloths into a large bin, which possessed lots of other materials in need of the laundry service. "Not the most glamorous of exits," Makoto apologized, dusting off her hands. "But a lot quicker than the front way. Heck, I even get lost trying to walk through the _Shusho's_ home."

"I don't mind," Ami said, sincerely, watching as two cars approached them. They both slowed and the door to the first one opened, and out stepped a tall, obviously foreign woman.

"Good evening, Elsa-san," Makoto said, walking towards the woman and Ami followed. Elsa kept the door opened and ushered Ami inside. Makoto leaned over and waved. "I hope to see you on Tuesday, Ami-san," she said. "Have a good night." Ami earnestly wished her the same, and Elsa closed the door.

Telling the driver to head to the hospital, Ami leaned back and closed her eyes, clutching her precious cargo, feeling lightheaded with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. Suddenly, she sat up, her gasp alerting the driver. After reassuring the man that nothing was amiss, Ami stared out of the window.

_What was she going to wear?_

* * *

Haruka finished up in the kitchen, feeling very proud of the two clean glasses drying on a rack. She headed back towards the House, turning off the lights of the various rooms she passed until she reached the bedroom area.

She opened the door to her daughter's room, lightly knocking. She found Hotaru curled up in bed, reading a book. Most of the lamps in her room were on, though the majority of them only possessed extremely dim bulbs, barely illuminating the varied shades surrounding them. These lamps were all kept for their beauty: from highly valuable Tiffany lamps to lanterns the pair had picked up on their travels. The only exception was the bright bedside light, which Haruka had insisted on for her daughter's bedtime reading habits.

"Finished with your homework already?" Haruka asked, stepping into the room, calmed as always by the dim lamps and relaxing against Hotaru's dresser.

Her daughter lifted the book in her lap, which Haruka noticed was in English. "This is it," she replied. "I only have to read one chapter."

"Do you need help?" Haruka asked, almost eagerly. It wasn't as if she were keen to revisit the land of 'English Mastar', but by next year Hotaru would be at a level beyond what Haruka could remember from school, and the Prime Minister wanted to be helpful while she still could be.

"No, Haruka-appa, I've got a good handle on it," her daughter replied. "I should be done in twenty minutes or so, and then I'll get ready for bed."

Haruka nodded. "I'll be in my office. Could you stop by before you go to bed to wish me 'Goodnight', Hotaru-chan?"

"Yes, Haruka-appa," Hotaru said obediently. Haruka smiled before walking out and closing the door behind her. She went down the hall to her office, which was located right beside her bedroom. Right where she had left it last night, a giant stack of papers sat atop her oak desk. It was a packet of the new legislation the Diet was trying to pass for how to proceed with the cleanup after the Korean War, and Haruka wanted to be certain of every detail before giving her vote. She sat in her chair and leaned over the packet, turned to the first page and began to read.

Twenty minutes later, she was asleep, face on her arms and slightly drooling.

_Haruka gripped her seat for dear life, gasping for air and trying to stay calm. Where just a moment ago she had been safely ensconced in her loud, vibrating steel cockpit, her feet now dangled wildly in midair and her jet was a blossoming fireball in the sky above her. She could hear the violent snapping of the ropes as her parachute deployed, much too slow for her liking, and she tried to control her stomach that threatened to jump out of her throat as she continued to spin wildly. Shouting a few colorful curses helped her maintain her equilibrium, and none-too-soon she felt the chute catch, though she still seemed to be dropping at an unacceptably fast rate. _

_Her fears were confirmed when the trees below reached up to smack her, branches whipping around and a few giving her a good stab. She felt her skull attempt to pound her neck into her ribcage and her feet separate from her ankles when she was suddenly jarred to a halt, dangling a good ten feet in the air. Cursing more, Haruka managed to unstrap herself, and then slowly tried to slither down from her perch and hang from the chair to land gracefully. That was her initial plan, at least, but she was thwarted by gravity and the draining of her adrenaline and she landed on her butt, her dismount fortunately cushioned by a foot of pure, powder snow. She lay there, for just a moment, taking in her wounds, which were mostly superficial, though there was a deep cut on her leg that already hurt like the dickens._

_It was bitterly cold, and Haruka ineffectually swatted at some of the snow collecting on her jacket, quickly replaced by more fallen flakes. The same Mother Winter that had staved off so many invasions for Russia extended over the Korean Peninsula as well, her teeth cutting into the brutal mountain ranges that dominated the North Korean landscape. _

_Haruka had a homing beacon attached to her flight suit, which was comfortingly working, if the warmth it was emanating was any indication. That small area on her ribs where it rested against was the only warm part about her now as a nice wind picked up, slicing through Haruka's jacket and making her shiver. Haruka now had one priority: find shelter until she can be rescued. With the weather being this cold, she would not make it through the night by merely finding a large object to hide from the wind, so she set about looking for some wood to make a shelter and to start a small fire._

_Doing a full turn around, Haruka had no idea which way was north or south, and the stars were hiding behind some ominous clouds. As if to fully acknowledge their presence, the clouds began to drop fat snowflakes at a faster, much more alarming pace._

_Haruka swore then and there she would never grumble about the Japanese summers or how much she spent running in the heat of the day. Her fingers were already stiff, and she shook them. Should she run to warm up? Which way should she go? Struck with sudden indecision, Haruka merely turned in a circle, nearly dizzy._

_Out of the blue, a tiny light flickered in her peripheral vision. Turning to it, it disappeared, and fearing the enemy, Haruka crouched and stared at where she thought she had seen the light. It blinked again, like a tiny firefly, before flashing off again. Were the North Koreans flashing signals to each other? Was that the direction of the enemy camp? Realizing the possibility of reconnaissance, as well as knowing that staying out here and building a fire would lead to death by the elements, or capture by North Koreans seeing her fire, Haruka began to go towards the firefly light. At the very least, her homing beacon on her frozen body would bring Japanese forces towards this unknown camp._

_The light continued to flicker, off and on, and at times it even seemed to change position. In the falling snow and bitter, bitter cold, Haruka's focus centered on only the firefly, her deadened limbs trudging through the snow as she clasped her body with her arms, the effort inadequate to warm her in the slightest._

_After hours, perhaps minutes, perhaps days, Haruka could see that the light was noticeably brighter, and as she neared it she nearly wept. It was a lantern, hanging in front of the door of a tiny shack. If it had been an enemy base, she had no idea how she could have dredged up the energy to do anything but stumble up to the front gate and surrender. _

_She stumble the last few steps and rudely thudded against the door. Steadying herself on the doorframe, she politely knocked, trying not to think too long on how strange it was to think of manners in the middle of North Korea, in the middle of the war, in the middle of a snowstorm._

_A solemn, tiny human opened the door. Liquid, dark eyes looked up, searching Haruka's face but not saying anything. _

_Haruka briefly wondered if she looked like a pale ghost to the child. Blinking hard, clearing the icicles from her eyelashes, the jet pilot tried to recall what limited Korean she had learned._

"I come in?_" she asked, or at least tried to ask, but her teeth chattered painfully and made her words sound more like a series of grunts._

_The child seemed to understand her intention, and after a moment's hesitation, let Haruka in. The pilot nearly wept with relief. She immediately sat herself by the fire, seeing the small child settle nearby. _

_The tiny fire burned strongly, and Haruka kept her feet and hands close to it. She felt a deep throb in her calf and pulled up her pant leg, noticing that the bleeding, which had been clotted by frozen blood, was now oozing again._

"Hurts?_" the child asked. Haruka turned to her—she now recognized the girlish features under the shock of short, messy black hair and dirt on her face—and the pilot's brain kicked on again. _

_Haruka nodded an affirmative. "_Your mother here?_" the blonde asked. The little girl nodded and stood, beckoning Haruka to follow. Painfully, Haruka got up, her limbs groaning and every muscle providing their own fire. At least the ambient temperature of the shack was bearable. _

_The child led Haruka to the back of the shack, which had a small partition separating it from the main room. Haruka's eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, but after a moment she noticed the girl sitting beside a thin mattress, and on it was a prone figure. _

_Haruka kneeled slowly, holding her breath. It was a woman, face composed peacefully in sleep. But when Haruka called out, there was no response. She touched the woman's shoulder and noticed it was cold and her body stiff. She was dead, and not even a day gone. There were so many ways she could have passed, from starvation to cancer, or even the bitter cold that nearly took Haruka's._

_Haruka turned to the child. "_Where's your father?_" _

_The child looked at her blankly. "_I do not know my father_."_

_The pilot looked at the little girl, suddenly as alone in the wilderness as Haruka was. "_What is your name?_" she asked._

"Daughter,_" the little girl replied. Haruka felt a wave of pity for the child. She knew that is was not uncommon for children to be referred to by their titles, but it seemed cruel to have had her identity taken from her simply because she wasn't old enough to remember it. _

_Haruka turned back to the body. "Thank you for saving my life," she told the dead woman in Japanese. "In return I will care for your daughter until the rest of your family arrives to take care of her."_

_The tall blonde stood slowly, bowing, and then headed back to the main room. The girl kissed her mother good night and followed, and the pair warmed themselves by the fire, contemplating each other._

_It took the Japanese Air Force eight days to finally rescue Haruka. In that time, she had taken several trips to dig a shallow grave for the dead mother, gathered snow for water many times, and found one lone pot of kimchi from which she and the little girl, whom she had started referring to as "Hotaru-chan", would eat. Hotaru had also taken to calling Haruka "Appa", the Korean word for "Dad", and when the Japanese Army showed up at her doorstep, Haruka paused. In all that time, not a single other person had come by to check on Hotaru. _

"Let's go?_" Haruka asked, tentatively holding out her hand. _

_The little girl solemnly put her tiny hand into Haruka's grasp. "_Let's go, Haruka-appa._"_

"Haruka-_appa_?"

The Prime Minister snorted, quickly and shockingly awake. She found herself in her office, arms lying on her desk around the thick sheaf of papers she had been reading. Hotaru's hand was on her shoulder, and Haruka wiggled her face muscles that were cramped from lying on her forearm.

Hotaru petted her parent's ruffled hair. "Maybe you should go to bed now, too," she suggested with a smile.

Haruka stood up, rubbing her stiff neck. "Maybe you have a good idea there," she conceded. She opened up her arms, Hotaru moved into the circle, and the pair hugged. "Oyasumi," Haruka said, kissing her daughter on the top of her head.

"Oyasumi," Hotaru murmured from where her face was buried in Haruka's embrace. "See you in the morning?" she asked, breaking away.

Haruka nodded, watching Hotaru leave the room. After the door clicked closed, Haruka looked down at the thick proposal on her desk, and then at her rumpled attire. Changing her clothes seemed like an excellent idea, so Haruka headed to her bedroom. While picking out some pajamas, a shower sounded like a marvelous addition to her plans. After a hot shower and getting into some soft cotton sleeping clothes, Haruka felt so comfortable that she had to relax on her bed, grabbing the proposition from her desk and taking it for bedtime reading. Within five minutes her eyes could no longer focus on the words, and so she turned in, and this time her sleep was not troubled by bittersweet memories.

* * *

Rei returned to her room from her mediations, smelling the incense clinging to her hair. She grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the bath, luxuriating in the tub for a little while longer than necessary, her body easing from the tenseness of the day.

She checked her phone right before heading to bed, and noticed a message on it. Calling her voicemail, she was greeted by a peppy voice.

"Good evening, Hino-san! This is Aino Minako from _Shusho's_ PR office. Due to your successful embedding today, our office would like to request for your attendance at a formal dinner, hosted by the Prime Minister for top ranking military leaders, with a special appearance by Kaioh Michiru. This will be this coming Tuesday. Please call back at this number if you would like to accept this invitation. We hope to hear from you soon."

Rei blinked. 'Successful embedding?' Rei thought that she had behaved, even for her, a little rudely. Despite her personal feelings, however, such an opportunity could not be missed for her career, and Rei saved the message, intending to RSVP the next morning. With that positive end to her day, Rei adjusted her futon, fell asleep immediately and dreamed of fireflies.

* * *

The white, modern-designed house sat so close to the edge of the cliffs that it seemed almost a part of the cliff face. A woman stood at the balcony of her house overlooking the ocean, and breathed deeply of the briny night air. This was her dream home: isolated, beautiful, peaceful.

She had thought herself comfortable within its white walls, marble floors, and grand staircases. She had grown accustomed to, even preferring, the quiet, the solitude. But lately, in her dreams, there had been an echo of someone else, and that echo seemed to make her house, during the waking hours, seem empty and cavernous.

She had composed her feelings into a song, but the melody seemed lacking, with only a violin. Perhaps a duet was in order? A piano would probably fit in nicely and adequately convey the feeling she was attempting to create, and provide a satisfactory bass line. She would have to collaborate with a pianist about it at a later date.

The moon was rising above the ocean, its silvery image distorted into cold flames on the motion of the waves. The next breeze made her shiver. Tightening her nightgown, Kaioh Michiru turned and went into her bedroom, sliding the glass doors closed behind her. The rays of moonlight struck across her sheets like bands of pure-driven snow, and shedding her outer layers, she slid under her covers, hoping to dream of a little warmth amidst the echoes.

* * *

A/N: Hopefully the length of this chapter makes up for the very short one preceding it. Thank you for making it through the whole thing.

Yes, I named Mako-chan's chef mentor "Mr. Tuna Seaweed". I work in a sushi restaurant; I couldn't help it. Also, just on the _very _off chance you might not know this, Hotaru's name directly translates to 'firefly'.

I very blatantly ripped off of _Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog_ for the pie reference. Consider it an advertisement for you to see it or buy the DVD, and if you require further persuasion, it's done by Joss Whedon.

Did you know that in the 'real' Korean War, it was so cold in winter that men's bleeding wounds would be clotted by the blood actually freezing at the surface of the wound? Now you know.

I wasn't anticipating it, but I'm glad I included all of the thus-far introduced characters in this chapter, as I begin to revv up for more character introductions. How about Mamoru as Haruka's shoe shiner? "It's only because of our long-standing friendship that you even got this job! You are now the most respected shoe shiner in all of Japan!" Hmmm, now the wheels are turning.

Finally, I reeeally debated on whether to name the chapter "Evening Star", but I think "Tiny Fires" was slightly more universal.

I appreciate the reviews, thank you for your input! Ask and ye shall/might receive!


	7. Nothing and Everything

Chapter Seven: Nothing and Everything

The tea house was peaceful in a way that put Haruka on edge. Born in Nagoya, living in Tokyo, and having spent the majority of her military career surrounded by comrades and jet engines, she was disquieted by silence. Silence was the harbinger of death; it was the brittle cold of snowflakes falling on an uninhabited mountainside, and the calm before the storm, before the attack. Thus Haruka acted differently than most Japanese at the onset of quiet; her mind was plagued with nervousness and she had to work hard to relax.

Not that the company she was keeping assuaged her fears in any way. The tall, dark haired woman calmly sitting beside her bore a regal bearing, and seemed completely unaffected by the silence between them. That was not to say that she didn't notice the silence—in fact, Haruka had a feeling that this woman was exceedingly aware every molecule in their surroundings—but, in her calculating manner, words were not necessary to further whatever plan she had at the moment.

The Imperial Teahouse, _Suwa no Chaya_, was in the center of Kyoko, nearly a mile away from the nearest car. Through the open windows Haruka could hear nothing but the rustling of leaves in the wind. In front of her, a tea pot and other accoutrements sat in perfect position, the tea having been served by her companion. It always unsettled Haruka: the way she was served tea in such a deliberate, if traditional, way.

"Let's not joust today with our words, Tenoh-_shusho_," the woman said, pink lipstick lightly marking the rim of her teacup. "We are both very occupied, and needn't waste time with formalities."

Haruka nodded. "Yes, _Kotaigo._" She preferred to keep these meetings short.

The darker skinned woman held her cup in her hands, one palm cupping the bottom of the tea, feet in _seiza_ position. "I'm afraid that I have nothing new to speak about, nor any requests. The war is still a very volatile subject, even though the actions I know you are planning are unavoidable. Any Communist resistance must be quickly and efficiently dealt with, if you are to continue your position."

Haruka nodded, trying to hide a frown. The other woman always referred to her job as Prime Minister as her "position", as if Haruka were a median-range salary man. But Haruka also knew that, without this woman's support, she would never have gotten it.

"I have Queen Iono's support on that action as well," Haruka reported. "Though I'm sure you already knew that."

The other woman did not answer, merely sipped her tea.

Haruka did not rise to her bait of silence. "How's Fiore-sama?"

"He is well," the dark haired woman replied. "How is your daughter?"

"She is doing well, also," Haruka said. "She is excited to meet her violin idol, Kaioh Michiru, tomorrow, at the General's Dinner."

The other woman put her teacup down. "If that is all of our necessary exchange, please allow me to return to my duties," she said. "Have a pleasant afternoon, Tenoh-_shusho_."

Haruka nodded, easing onto her feet. Less time spent in the other's presence was always welcome, as she felt the pressures of what she was trying to accomplish settle more heavily on her shoulders with each conversation. Being a woman, in her position, was a burden that she could never forget to bear with the utmost of her abilities, for future women's fates depended on her and the dark haired woman's efforts.

The Prime Minister took one last look around the tea house, looking to see if she had left anything behind and settled her eyes on the dark skinned woman, still kneeling and sipping tea. She was beautiful to look at, commanding respect and awe, and guarded her own secrets with effortless ferocity. Haruka bowed.

Her garnet eyes bore into Haruka when she lifted her head from her bow and spared a quick glance before leaving. A sharply glittering jewel: that was how Haruka viewed Meioh Setsuna, Empress Dowager of Japan.

* * *

"Oh I'm SO excited!!!" Hotaru squealed, displaying some uncharacteristic liveliness by nearly rolling on the floor with glee. She settled on the arm of a couch, before fluttering over to a mirror, adjusting her dress for the _n_th time, practically vibrating with excitement.

Haruka chuckled, absently checking her cufflinks. In a few moments Elsa would have their car ready to take them to the reception. Haruka had entertained the idea of wearing her military dress uniform, in order to fit in with the military crowd, but she decided against it. No need to compete with the decorated generals and commanders whom she was supposed to be honoring.

The woman who had helped pick out her outfit was currently on her cell phone, typing out something, probably surfing the web. Occasionally, Minako would giggle, making Haruka wonder if the PR Director ever did a lick of real work on that gadget. The long-haired blonde had come early in order to go over the schedule for the evening, which followed the standard dinner-then-speech pattern before shifting to the musical performance.

"Why is Kaioh-san performing at this particular function?" Haruka asked Minako, the question having plagued her. It also made her uncomfortable to have Minako in her home, with Hotaru. Seeing the two representatives of her home life and her political persona together made her uneasy. Also, Minako was absolutely hopeless around children and tended to say something inappropriate, embarrassing, or both. "Wouldn't a performance have been better suited for some arts gala or museum opening?"

Minako tilted her head. "Yes, that would have been better. In fact, I was suggesting some of those very events—heck, I would have created one out of the thin air!—but she insisted on the soonest possible time. She didn't seem too put off by this being mostly a military photo-op."

"Why would she want to perform as soon as possible?" Haruka queried, still not settled. "Does she have a new album coming out?"

"I looked into that," Minako assured with the self-confidence of a high school gossip queen. "And she has no scheduled CD's hitting stores or a planned tour." She shrugged. "Maybe she had some "artist's whim" and wanted to play for you, I don't know." She wrinkled her nose in annoyance before looking back at her cell phone.

Haruka sighed. "I guess she couldn't stay away from me any longer, the most famous woman in ALL JAPAN," she said imperiously, loudly enough for Hotaru to hear, and then striking a "handsome" pose. The young teen scowled, at that age where she was starting to get easily embarrassed by just about anything Haruka said, but she couldn't stop a small giggle. Haruka turned to Minako, wiggling her eyebrows, and the younger woman held up a V-sign in approval without looking up from her texting.

The PR Director finally stuck her phone back into her purse and pulled out a sheaf of papers from her purse. "All right, _Shusho_, here's your speech. It comes after dinner, before the performance. I suggest a strong tone with hints of warmth." Haruka had to admit that—though she was better at flying jets than anything else—if someone put a typed sheet of paper in front of her, she could deliver a good speech. Tucking the notes into her jacket, she reached for her cell phone that was vibrating within the inside pocket.

"The car is prepared, _Shusho_," Elsa's lightly accented voice crisply declared when Haruka brought the phone to her ear.

"Thank you," Haruka replied, and led the trio out the front door.

Haruka chuckled as she led Hotaru into the large hall, placing a comforting hand on her back at the sight of a room full of serious-faced men. Upon seeing Hino Rei, the reporter, waiting for them at the entrance, Minako had immediately clammed up and, after a few awkward moments, mumbled an excuse and slipped off somewhere. The Prime Minister was enjoying this new, shy side of Minako, wickedly relishing her discomfort for the time being. Hotaru, now in silent, public mode, merely shared an amused smile with her parent, acknowledging the joke.

The embedded reporter, perceptive as always, raised an eyebrow at Minako's behavior and Haruka's corresponding amusement, but didn't comment. Now Haruka was the lone blonde among two black-haired women and gallantly led them toward their table. Checking her watch, Haruka saw that there was still some time before dinner.

Haruka walked around the hall for a bit, speaking to some politicians and military officials she knew, Hotaru trailing behind her like a shadow, politely echoing her parent's greetings, Hino-san being even more unobtrusive. Haruka did make sure to loudly say the name of everyone she spoke with, in case the reporter was taking mental notes. At one point the raven-haired woman excused herself to go to the bathroom, and Haruka nodded, pointing its direction.

As she turned around after pointing, she almost poked a man in the eye. "Whoa, my apologies sir… Mamoru!" Haruka's contrite face turned into a smile at seeing her childhood friend. In deference to the somber mood of the room, she merely clasped Mamoru's arm. "I'm very glad to see you here," she said sincerely.

The tall man gripped her arm just as tightly. "I'm glad to have gotten the invitation," he said, and turned to Hotaru. "And did you two receive your invitation to our particular party?" Hotaru nodded, shoulders relaxing a bit in the presence of someone familiar.

Haruka elaborated. "Excellent card," she complimented. "We have the date saved, absolutely." The Prime Minister looked around. "Where's Usagi?" Haruka asked. She spotted her friend, just as Mamoru chuckled and gave his answer.

"At the hor d'oeuvre table, of course," he replied, and sure enough, she was happily piling a small plate overly full with Makoto's delicious treats. The two childhood friends shared a rueful smile; as much as Usagi was the kindest, most generously open-hearted woman they had ever known, and much as she was devoted to Mamoru, the pair knew that her first love would always be food.

"At least someone will enjoy themselves immensely tonight," Haruka remarked, eyeing the rest of the room. "I've rarely seen such a crowd of humorless looking individuals." Indeed, the room was populated by a number of celebrated military officers, the weight of the medals on their chests coinciding with the depth of their frowns.

"They may be dour, but I know of at least three people who are excited to hear Kaioh-san's music, ne, Hotaru-chan?" Mamoru asked, reaching over and squeezing the teen's shoulder. Hotaru's dark head nodded, smiling a little, still maintaining a solemn air despite her anticipation. Hotaru had always acted this way in public, despite her general exuberance around her friends, and Haruka hadn't felt a need to address that behavior as incorrect. Her daughter had never been rude to anyone, merely quiet, and in the present day's political bubble, perhaps that was for the best.

Haruka agreed with Mamoru. "We're lucky," she said, and she sorely felt it. Three orphans stood together, and Haruka felt a sudden rush of emotion, seeing how far they had come, grateful for what they had. This rush of emotionality left her a bit unbalanced, so she took a deep breath, then gazed down at her daughter. "Hotaru-chan, could you stay with Usagi-san while I enjoy my task of mingling with our honored guests?" Her daughter nodded, and they both turned to see Usagi approaching with a plate stacked high with food in one hand, and already bringing the snacks to her mouth with the other. "Please pardon me, Usagi-chan, as I do my duties," Haruka said, excusing herself. Usagi bowed as well as she was able with full hands and a full mouth.

"I'll come with you," Mamoru offered. Haruka nodded, and the pair went off, with Haruka's last look showing Hotaru gingerly pulling something off of Usagi's plate.

It wasn't often that Mamoru could find his way into one of the many staid dinners that Haruka hosted. Being a junior Diet member, he still didn't have access to the many networking perks that more senior members enjoyed. But unlike many of his political peers, he had served in the War, and could easily relate to many of the distinguished guests this particular night. Like Haruka, Mamoru wore a civilian suit, but their experiences allowed them to engage in thoughtful conversations with the old soldiers, who gradually warmed to them. The pair made such a politely charming duo that no one took notice of how politically advantageous their mingling was. Haruka showed, with her friendship with Mamoru, that she remembered her friends in the war, which would include the officers at this reception. For Mamoru, this was a way to gain some points amongst the military elite, and network for the future. At times it disgusted Haruka how easily 'schmoozing' came to her, and occasionally she wanted to throw her hands up in disgust at the whole system. But despite the carefully balanced artifice and Minako's micro-managing and constant bowing and hand shaking, Haruka always remembered that what she was doing, who she was representing, was bigger than herself. Her success—and at certain points Haruka felt she could barely keep her office unblemished, let alone "successful"—would determine the path of women in Japanese national politics for the present, and for years to come.

There were also some short term reasons for this dinner. Though Haruka had publicly promised to start pulling troops from the peninsula, she knew that the old dogs who were populating this dinner party would need some assurance that she wasn't going to destroy the military budget in the process. The support of the military was important to her platform of reaching across boundaries such as the one between politics and the armed forces, and she tread a delicate line between placating a traditionally insular public opinion and the desire of the military to conquer and drive away all enemies of the state.

Eventually, Haruka drifted back to her table, Hotaru already impatiently shifting in her seat beside her. The Prime Minister's arrival usually signified the beginning of the meal, and within ten minutes waiters began carrying out food. The food was delicious, and Haruka looked around for Makoto, noting the chef's absence. She had insisted that Mako-chan attend, making the arrangements with Minako and ensuring that the tall brunette would be seated beside Mizuno-sensei, whom Haruka saw wearing a fetching blue dress a few tables away. It seemed the chef was sabotaging Haruka's plans, only occasionally emerging from the kitchen, though she wore a lovely green outfit at odds with the bustling cooks and birkenstocked wait staff clad in black and white.

Though the meal was delicious, a tight ball had formed in Haruka's stomach. She felt nervous, and she couldn't wait to get her speech over with. Generally, Haruka was an excellent public speaker, only suffering rare bouts of anxiety, but it seemed like today would be one of those rare times.

Sensing her parent's mood, probably from the tight lines she could see forming around Haruka's mouth, Hotaru lay a hand on Haruka's arm. Putting down her fork, which, due to her nerves, only held tasteless morsels, Haruka took her daughter's hand and smiled. From then on she nibbled her food, but maintained a deceptive equilibrium.

Dinner was soon over, and Hotaru was already overcome with teenaged boredom, gathering enough energy to give Haruka a good luck smile. Haruka stood unobtrusively and made her way towards the "stage", which was really just a small raised area that was just big enough to include a podium and several chairs and music stands, ostensibly for Kaioh's accompaniment. In the car she had looked over the speech, and approved, making only a few cosmetic changes. She saw Minako and stood beside her, and the PR director brushed some lint off of the Prime Minister's jacket. The lights dimmed and the crowd hushed, and Haruka climb up the one step onto the dais, confidently striding to the podium.

The bright light on the platform, coupled with the darkened room, made seeing any features in the crowd impossible. Butterflies were flying in her stomach, but Haruka remembered who she was, and who was rooting for her out there in the darkness, and unfolded her paper. She began to speak.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for coming today. I hope that everyone has had a chance to meet and mingle with out nation's finest officers. You all have secured our victory, and continue to hold the delicate peace in your hands.

"We're coming upon a difficult time. As you know, there will be cuts to the military budget. These are mandated by our people, and by our people's representatives. We are going to have to restructure, tear down things we have built, and become leaner. Our time is waning, and we must relinquish some of the privileges to which we have become accustomed.

"Indeed, to serve our country is a privilege. To revel in our prowess, to be successful in our ventures, to protect the lives of our countrymen: these are privileges that many of you accomplished leaders have finally, finally been able to exercise after so many decades of stagnation. You have proven that Japan is not only a leader in technology, but a military force with which they must take into account and accept. And now that the threat is gone, we must prove that we are also above military strong-arm tactics and that guns are still not our only weapon.

"We have no choice. Rather, the choice is superseded by the needs of our people. For more than half a century we have cultivated our country without a military, and to that construct we must continue to aspire. The samurai must lay down his sword to grow the field, to govern the land, to enrich our people. The soldier must return to the lands he protected, and remember why he protected it in the first place. To make war is not our only strength: why is it that we can weather and outlast the same economic crises that other countries face? Why is it that we withstand any typhoon, any tsunami, any earthquake?

"It is because we are a strong people, a driven people. Our greatest resource is ourselves, and I intend to invest in our future, and not dwell long on the conflicts of the past. Though I may be asking you to cut your budgets, I want our greater goal to be a leaner, more efficient defense force that concentrates on the future and the technology from which we, a country as a whole, can benefit.

"We will never outnumber our opponent. Our success, however, is not dependant on the mass of our army, or the strength of our bombs, but on the willpower of our people. Remember the ideals we have held to, and remember the work we have put into them. We can't always be perfect, or correct, but we can certainly try. And this, my friends, is the first step.

"So, I applaud your bravery. Not only have we as a country asked you to be the first to leap into enemy territory, but also be the first to step in the right direction. While I host this dinner for you as a gesture of my gratitude, in the end, it is a gesture for you to walk side by side with me, as we face our certain future. I applaud you, in fact I ask everyone in this room to applaud you, for the work you have done, and the work that continues to call for us. Let us work together, from now on."

Haruka took a moment, maintaining her serious mien. Applause thundered through the room, and she couldn't pick out any particular person that seemed outraged from her speech. But then again, though her eyes had adjusted, she still couldn't see too well into the darkened room.

After the clapping had ceased, the Prime Minister allowed a smile to grace her face. "It is my great honor to introduce this musician, though she needs no introduction." Haruka felt a pang of nervousness sit like a rock in her stomach as she looked across to the stage's edge, where the woman would make her appearance. She didn't see any movement, the side of the raised stage an inky blackness. Haruka pulled her fingers into a fist, raising her left hand, willing strength to her limb. At the top, she released her hand, sweeping her arm grandly. "Kaioh Michiru!"

Swiftly Haruka managed to exit to the right, shaking legs taking her down the three steps before an aide helped her back to her table. The mix of adrenaline from the speech and something else made her shaky and jumpy, and she was glad to be seated again. She reached over and gripped Hotaru's hand, as much for her own comfort as her daughter's, and the happy young woman squeezed back.

Kaioh Michiru took a moment to enter the stage, and Haruka was already sitting before the musician became visible. Haruka watched with growing eyes. The ball in her stomach exploded and engulfed her, and her limbs were suddenly nerveless and without strength. At the same time, Haruka relaxed, now knowing where her anxiety stemmed. As she felt her body relax, Kaioh Michiru tensed as she immediately began her first piece.

The music was as achingly beautiful as Haruka remembered it, though the benefit of watching it live enhanced the experience exponentially. Kaioh's body was part of the music, flowing and shivering with the tempo and reverent feeling evoked in each piece. The backup band barely registered, so transcendent was her performance. Her physical prowess was only confirmed by a fast, jaunting piece in which she bounced a lemon for several minutes off her violin, eliciting enthusiastic cheers. And not only did she perform her songs, but she also spent a moment before each piece to explain its name and significance.

All too soon, the concert was nearing its end. There was one last song, and every member of the audience was hushed, excited yet saddened, thirsty but heartbroken that this would be their final drink from this ambrosia.

"This final song is, as it may be known in the contemporary pop music world, a 'remix,'" Kaioh began, her voice lilting and feminine. "I once wrote a song called "The White House", which revealed a dream I had once of my home as it is now: a haven by the beach. The song was a song of contentment, of satisfaction. This next piece is called "The White House's Dreams". I have never played this in public before, so I hope you enjoy it and interpret it as you will."

The silence's hungry anticipation that hovered over the room as the violinist positioned her instrument nearly crushed Haruka's chest. She knew the original piece to which the musician referred: it was a lovely song, supple and evoking pastel colors of comfort and warm sunshine. It was uniformly agreed by her fans that that song referred to the safe haven that Kaioh's ultra-secluded home provided.

This "remix" began with the recognizable melody, but as the song progressed, the audience began to wilt. The song was empty, and unlike Kaioh's other pieces, it lacked passion. Discordant notes marred the once easy melody. It wasn't until the very end, when it seemed the problem unbearable, and the audience was shifting uncomfortably, that the piece regained some resolve, and a quick resolution was forming. The solution to the emptiness was known, and the addition of it was creating a beautiful, fulfilled melody. As her bow whipped across the strings, Kaioh opened her eyes and looked straight at Haruka, her gaze blowing through her. No one else seemed to notice the intent in the musician's relaxed face, but the Prime Minister was set on edge.

The house band, a string quartet that had backed the premiere musician up, continued to play after Kaioh left the stage. At this point people stood up and began milling about, the wives of the military men in particular mingling with each other, reacquainting and meeting new people. Haruka glanced around, watching the patterns of people moving. A quick glance at a nearby table revealed that Makoto had not made it to the dinner table as Haruka had planned, and was instead keeping the dessert table maintained. Ami-san was chatting with a young man, and they seemed to be conversing amiably. Haruka twisted her mouth. Her matchmaking efforts tonight were in vain, and it seemed that she would have to take a more direct approach.

Rei-san was looking a bit bored, though her eyes seemed to be drawn to Usagi, who shared the table with her and Mamoru. The odango-atama had commandeered a giant plate of desserts, and Haruka stifled a laugh at the alarmed look on the journalist's face. 'I don't know where she puts it, either,' she replied in thought, as if telepathically speaking to Rei-san, whose expression had settled into a perplexed inquisitiveness when it seemed Usagi wasn't in imminent danger of exploding.

Haruka stayed in her seat, willing to let other people walk up to her. Hotaru sat beside her, idly working on a tiny bowl of chocolate mousse. Fortunately it seemed that the music put everyone in a better mood, so the conversations flowed, including between the Diet members and military officers that came up to pay their respects to the host.

Haruka was just feeling comfortable again, when she scented a familiar perfume. Or, at least, that was what she told herself when she looked up and her eyes immediately fell upon Kaioh Michiru, who was walking towards her, crowd parting in the space between them. Haruka was caught, trapped in the poetry of the woman's gliding walk and the perfect wave of her hair.

Too slowly to avoid embarrassment but too quickly for Haruka not to still be staggered, Kaioh Michiru was in front of her. The woman had a bright smile in her mouth, but her eyes reflected something mischievious, and roiling beneath the surface. "Good evening, Tenoh-_shusho_," she said, congenially.

Haruka licked her lips, mortified to have been caught staring, but unable to do anything about it. "Good evening, Kaioh-san," she replied. She sensed Hotaru's thrumming energy beside her, and flashed her daughter a quick smile. "And this is my daughter, Hotaru," she said, glad for the distraction to look away. The two bowed, and Haruka tried not to look too pleased with how happy Hotaru looked.

Hotaru couldn't contain herself. "May I ask you a question, Kaioh-san?" the teen asked, and Haruka felt a stirring of pride in her daughter's impeccable manners.

"Of course," the musician replied.

Hotaru chewed on her lip for half a second. "How old were you when you decided to become a professional musician?"

Kaioh-san seemed to give the question a thorough amount of thought. "Hmm, Hotaru-san," she began. "I'd say I was about four." When Hotaru's jaw dropped, the musician waved her hands in front of her modestly. "Between wanting to be a ballerina, actress, marine biologist, and Emperor of Japan, of course," she amended. She put a finger on her lower lip. "If I were to pinpoint an exact moment when I _believed_ I would be able to play music professionally, I think that was when I was 13, and having judges and instructors telling me this on a daily basis. At that point, I was aiming for the Tokyo Philharmonic." She paused, and Haruka saw that she had Hotaru on the edge of her seat. "And lastly, when I finally understood I could write and produce my own music, and make a living from it… I still can't believe it!" Her hands moved excitedly, expressive even without an instrument. "Even after my first stadium concert, even after autograph sessions that had people lined up around the block, I was still convinced that the world was playing some sort of elaborate trick on me." She smiled, gently. "I only feel that it's truly real when I'm in my own home, and I touch the walls, just to be sure."

Her eyes returned to brush across Haruka's gaze before settling back onto the daughter. "And, of course, I get to meet you and your parent, Hotaru-san, a great honor for anyone." Hotaru blushed, head obviously swimming with the lengthy answer to her question and the proximity of her idol.

After hearing the other woman's lilting, feminine voice, Haruka's ears were almost assaulted by the sound of the house band, as unobtrusively as they might have been playing. Hotaru seemed overwhelmed, so Haruka jumped in. "Kaioh-san, do you enjoy listening to another person's violin?"

Blue eyes crashed into her. "As long as I'm not actively listening to them, since I tend to criticize quickly." She held out a hand. "Would you care to distract me with a dance?" Haruka's eyes flew back and forth between the other woman's face and hand. She seemed sincere, and it would be rude to refuse, so Haruka stood, almost without volition. She moved around the table and lifted the musicians hand by the wrist to rest gingerly on her arm. While she might have avoided something by not touching the woman's hand directly, she felt a full body chill that immediately switched to heat when the violinist gripped her bicep and lead them into the throng of people. Quickly, they made their way to the center of the dance floor, and Haruka held out her arms, idly wondering if she would be leading or following. The musician answered her question by resting one hand on Haruka's shoulder and the other in her grip.

Her waist and hand fit into Haruka's grasp as if they had been made for each other. The position was as natural and unthinking as when Haruka settled within her jet's cockpit, or the first time she had held Hotaru's tiny body. Her ears roared, while at the same time, she was attuned to the sound of the other woman's breaths. She was immediately present, yet felt detached from her body, watching herself begin leading a simple waltz. The other woman moved with her steps perfectly, and Haruka might not have been aware of their joined movement if not for the faint caress of the violinist's dress against her legs.

"You seem distracted," the musician noted after a few moments, startling Haruka from her reverie. The Prime Minister felt a little heat rush to her face, but she hoped that she managed to hide it well. Michiru giggled.

"My apologies, Kaioh-san," Haruka stuttered. "I feel like there is a lot going on here tonight, and not just buzz from your amazing performance."

"So you sense the restlessness as well, eh? Please, call me Michiru," the musician said. "Do you mind if I call you by your given name?"

Haruka shook her head. "That would be the surest way to get my attention in any situation, Michiru-san."

Michiru smiled again, and then leaned closer to Haruka, whispering conspiratorially, her breath light on Haruka's cheek. "Haruka-san…" she began, and the taller woman cursed her body for shivering. She could feel the other woman's lips curving up again into a smile. "This may sound conceited, but it does not happen often for my audience to be thinking of something other than me. And that man over there," Michiru pointed with her chin at General Yagami, who was sitting at his table, looking mostly absent from the conversation around him. "He had very little interest in my music tonight. He might have something weighing heavily on his mind."

Easily, Haruka slipped Michiru into a graceful spin, ending in a short dip. When she lifted the violinist back up, the musician's fingers moved to the back of the blonde's neck, lightly teasing the short hairs before returning down to her shoulder. Haruka felt a tingle that started at the four points of Michiru's fingertips and went down to her toes.

Clearing her throat, Haruka was still surprised at the huskiness of her own voice. "I guess that I must speak with him," she said unwillingly. "But not before this song is over," she finished, dipping Michiru one more time and leading them into a spin. The musician giggled and smiled in a way that made her seem much younger, and Haruka smiled back, effortlessly charmed and charming in return.

Moments later, the song had ended but it took a minute for the pair to realize it. Haruka let go of the fascinating woman in front of her, taking her hand to plant a kiss along her knuckles. She bowed deeply. "I hope we can speak once more before the evening is finished. And I hope you can find the time to converse with my daughter, Hotaru, who is your biggest fan" Haruka said, leading.

Michiru curtsied. "I will meet you on the balcony," she said, and then melted away into the crowd, immediately being set upon by various fans and impressed audience members.

Haruka turned quickly, not wanting to look as if she were watching her dancing partner go, and her eyes easily found General Yagami, pensively sitting at his table. He looked as if he were mustering a force field around him, discouraging other people from approaching, and even his wife was a few tables over, speaking with some other army wives.

The Prime Minister approached calmly, not wanting to put the old man on guard. An old wolf like him still had instincts enough to suss out that Haruka's approach had intent, and she didn't want him clamming up defensively before she even began speaking.

_General Yagami eyed Haruka over his steepled fingers, both of them seated and regarding each other intently. The pilot still held Hotaru in her arms, though the young girl was a little restless from being held captive there and not understanding what anyone was saying around her. Haruka remained still, looking Yagami in the eye, awaiting his words._

"_Of course," he began, "She cannot remain with you."_

_She didn't flinch, as she was anticipating this reaction. "She must. She has no one else. I was out there for days and days and no one came to take care of her. Her mother is dead."_

_The older man settled back into his chair. He gestured around him, at the tent that was his field office, and encompassing the easily heard hustle and bustle of an Army camp, deep in North Korean territory. He didn't need to say that this was no place for a child. _

_Haruka had prepared an argument on her way there. "With my leg injured, I won't be put on combat readiness for at least three weeks. In that time I can get her acclimated to whatever base I'll be flying out of, which will be back in the South. There will be people to care for her when I fly missions."_

_Yagami narrowed his eyes at her, and replied, "That may be the case, Captain, but when you return to your base, they won't let you bring that girl in. We can't have soldiers bringing in every sad-faced urchin that pulls their heartstrings. And if there's an attack, any kindly nurse you may coerce into caring for her will have her hands full with other tasks, and she'll get lost, underfoot, or both."_

_Haruka pressed her lips together. "Then I'll send her to Japan. I have friends who can care for her."_

"_Humph. So you'll send a girl who knows no Japanese back to the home country, without you, by herself," the General countered, giving Haruka a patronizing look. "I know that you feel responsible for this child, but her mother's death had nothing to do with you. There's bound to be an orphanage in the nearby town, and we should leave her with her people."_

_Haruka gripped Hotaru tighter, and the child, sensing her unease, began to fuss. The pilot let Hotaru climb down from her lap, though the girl didn't go far, keeping a palm on Haruka's knee. She looked up at the general, quietly studying him with her dark eyes._

"_You are probably not aware of this General, but I was an orphan," Haruka confessed quietly. The words almost stuck in her throat, so unaccustomed she was to uttering them. She couldn't remember ever telling anyone of this fact, as the parties concerned had always already known. "This may not sway your logic, but I cannot, in my right mind, let Hotaru go. I can give her a home, a happy one, where she's wanted." Haruka put a hand atop Hotaru's and the small child flipped her palm around to grasp Haruka's thumb._

_The older man did not seem swayed by her emotional outburst. "I could almost consider this possibility, but you do not have a home," he argued. "You do not have a spouse at home to care for the child while you are at war. You're young, so you don't know that the kindness of friends only lasts so long, and that eventually this child will be neglected. And you, Captain, will not even be aware of it. You'll be ignorantly sending letters and money, not knowing that your daughter is not being treated as she should. And when this war drags on—and I say when, not if—she will be persecuted for being from Korea, being a living example of the entrenchment from which Japan cannot extricate itself."_

_Haruka was impressed by the General impassioned words, but her heart was hardened against him and his arguments. "Then I thank you and the Army for your rescue, but we shall be returning to the shack on the mountain." She stood without being dismissed._

_Yagami snorted. "Even if that possibility existed, the people to pick you up would be the Air Force, and you'll be imprisoned for desertion. The girl will be thrown into an orphanage anyway, and you will never be able to return to the peninsula."_

_The jet pilot lightly rubbed the tiny hand in hers. "Then, at least for a little while, she'll know that someone cares for her." She bowed, quickly. "Thank you for your time." She turned on her heel and walked out._

_The cacophony of a working Army camp assaulted her as she opened the tent flaps and strolled out onto the grounds, Hotaru trailing behind. For a second, Haruka felt as if she were back in the blizzard, having absolutely no idea which way to go, though this time another human would be sharing her fate. The weight of the sky crushed down on her. _

"_Haruka-kun!" someone shouted. Spinning, the tall blonde's eyes cast about until she saw a waving hand, and attached to it, the handsome features of a friend._

"_Mamoru-kun!" Haruka welcomed back, heartily accepting and giving a strong hug to the black-haired man. Pulling back, she drank deeply of his warm, blue-eyed regard. "I'm so glad to see you," she said._

_The young man smiled. "Same here," he replied. "I didn't even know you'd been shot down until this morning, when we were debriefed about finding you." He clasped her arm solidly, taking comfort from her genuine flesh, as she took comfort from his strong grasp. _

_Mamoru looked down. "And who is this?" He knelt. _"My name is Mamoru_," he said in Korean. _

_After a morning spent shying from the harsh glares of everyone she had passed by, Hotaru beamed when met with Mamoru's kindliness. She bowed, and Haruka rewarded her manners by rubbing her hand. _

_For the next week, Haruka was worried that every footstep that passed her tent would belong to a soldier who was ordered to take Hotaru away. She even had conspired with Mamoru on a plan to be set in motion in case she were to be detained and Hotaru taken away. Nights were spent waking at the sounds of muffled voices and scuffled boots. Spare time was used for teaching Hotaru some basic Japanese phrases in preparation for either a move or a separation. _

_At the end of the week, the truck came for Haruka. The driver of the truck gave a second glance at Hotaru, but didn't make a fuss. Haruka nearly collapsed with relief, knowing that he had not received any orders to separate the two. Together they climbed into the back of the truck and rode south with a few other soldiers. Haruka held Hotaru's body extra close as they left the camp, until the tiny child squirmed to be loose. Making sure Hotaru didn't lean over the railing too far while viewing the passing scenery, Haruka made a prayer of thanks._

_Her biggest blessing was sent to General Yagami. In doing nothing, he had given Haruka everything. _

So it was with utmost respect that Haruka approached the old man. He looked as if the last few years had aged him considerably. Though the majority of the fighting on the Korean peninsula had long been over, the cleaning-up process was proving the most strenuous of all, and the signs of wear were visible in the craggy lines of his face.

Haruka approached the table, and then laid a hand on an unoccupied chair beside the weather general. "General Yagami," she began, bowing deeply when he turned his eyes to her. "May I sit?"

He gave a nod of acquiescence. In this corner of the room, Haruka could appreciate how a bubble was formed around them, away from chatting wives and the music of the house band.

"Did you enjoy the performance?" Haruka asked.

Yagami nodded, and then cleared his throat, as if realizing he was being a bit rude. "Yes, it was very good, _Shusho_" he complimented. "My wife tells me it is quite amazing that you managed to get Kaioh Michiru to attend and perform."

Haruka waved it off. "I am fortunate to have a gifted staff to handle these things for me. Unless they need a fighter jet salute, I'm pretty useless in these events." She smiled. He grudgingly nodded.

Haruka looked out towards where he was looking. Hotaru was speaking with the famous violinist, looking every bit the excited teenager she was. Haruka's heart swelled with love at the sight of her daughter's happiness, hoping that times like these would be more prevalent in the future.

Turning to business, the Prime Minister addressed the general. "General Yagami, what is occupying your mind?" she asked, politely. There were times to joust with words, but Haruka didn't feel like wasting their time, a shift that the general noticed.

He chewed on his lip, and by extension, his thick mustache. "There is something," he acceded, taking a deep breath. "But I'm not sure if it's wise to inform you of something that will cause you more problems than remaining ignorant."

Haruka locked her eyes onto his. "If there is one thing I've cherished after turning to politics, it is the truth. If this issue were to hurt me from my knowledge of it, then it is even more important that I know it as soon as possible, so that I can formulate a transparent, honest approach to presenting it my country, and to anyone else I must convince."

Vital, dark eyes, slightly hidden by deep wrinkles borne from decades of searching the horizon for danger and victory, returned her gaze steadily. "Someday, your ideals will be the end of you," he said. "If you cannot bend, you will break." He looked Haruka in the eye, and she returned his gaze.

"That being said, I will inform you of the actions my men are undertaking this very evening." He shifted, as if preparing for a long speech. "Near the Chinese/North Korean border, there's a small medical outpost, a clinic mainly for minor illnesses, cleft lip surgery, the like. It is headed by a Dr. Souichi Tomoe, and his background was not unlike all the other doctors wanting to do philanthropic work over on the Peninsula.

"But there have been disturbing reports coming out of there, and I took the liberty of looking in on his activities, he being Japanese and perhaps under the military's jurisdiction, if anybody's, out there." Here the man stopped. He rubbed his eyes wearily. "Intelligence discovered that he was running experiments, utilizing the native population as human test subjects. The locals are terrified of him, but they don't know who to turn to, and they are a bit remote, even for North Korea. Tonight I have a unit arriving to take the clinic, by force if necessary."

He steepled his fingers. "When the world hears about this, you will have to answer many questions. I do not envy you, for while I am the sword that is cutting the head of the serpent, the country will see you as the errant father unable to control his brood, while the world will see us—and by extension, you—as the mother who bore the evil. Especially when taking into account our country's past in regards to these crimes…"

Haruka tore her eyes away from the general's, trying to take deep breaths to relax her stiff body and calm her racing mind. This revelation and the implications were whirling through her mind like a cyclone, and she felt her senses numbing as the world narrowed to the air in front of her as she tried to process it all.

Yagami shifted in his seat again. "Would you like to order a halt of the operation? There might be a chance…"

Haruka held up a hand. "No, you have made a swift and correct decision." Across the room she stared at Hotaru, still happily conversing with the reclusive violinist, looking as glowing as Haruka had ever seen her. "I will call my staff together tonight to discuss how we will explain our prodigal son to our people and to the world. I want a report as soon as you hear of the mission's success, and continued information as it develops. I do _not_ want to hear about any developments from the media first."

The pair sat in silence, contemplating their own thoughts. After many moments, the nerves in the Prime Minister's limbs seemed to return to life, and she excused herself. She made her rounds, speaking with the key members of her staff discreetly, and having them take inconspicuous turns at calling in any absent personnel.

Hotaru was sitting back at their table, looking a bit tired. Haruka gave her a kiss on the forehead. "In a minute we'll go home and go to bed, okay?" and she got a sleepy nod in reply.

Looking around, Haruka didn't see the musician, but she headed straight towards the opened doors that led to the outside terrace.

Michiru stood at the edge of the balcony, amazingly alone. She leaned on her elbows against the stone railing, and the moonlight gave her skin a slightly bluish tinge, as if she were a marble statue. Her pose, so determinedly staring into space, may have been what gave the people around her pause and relinquish elbow room to her. Who knows what a creative genius might be thinking, what majestic song the composing of which they might be interrupting?

As Haruka tentatively neared, the ex-pilot was taken back, again, to the cliffs of Korea, and staring out back towards Japan across the sea. Except before, where there was merely the sounds of the ocean hitting the cliffs and the background chorus of the melancholic strings of a violin, now there stood the living, breathing woman who had played those strings. As if aware of Haruka's presence, Michiru turned, and smiled. Haruka opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Do I disconcert you?" the elegant woman asked, moving a few inches over, inviting Haruka to stand beside her on the railing.

"I wish I understood myself when I'm around you," Haruka admitted, slipping beside her and laying a hand on the cool marble. Was it the refreshing breeze that brought her sudden candor or the chilling thought that it seemed as if this woman read her mind? Looking out in the surrounding gardens below, the Prime Minister decided that she needed to clear the air.

"I feel like I want to know you." Haruka searched for the words, barely articulating them as they rose up in her mind. "But," she paused, swallowing and searching Michiru's face, wishing the moonlight would somehow reveal to her the answers she needed in the pale shadow of her long lashes or curve of her lip. "I feel like getting to know you would be… the end of the world."

Michiru looked up at the moon. "Do you think that if we… talked more, you would lose everything, Haruka-san?"

Haruka tightened her lips. "I think that if we became closer, it would be bad for Hotaru." The words were said without thought, but as a knee-jerk reaction.

"Because the kids would taunt her, not only because she is Korean, but because her mother likes other women? Are you afraid of some sort of media frenzy, calls for your resignation?" Michiru's voice did not get louder, but her voice carried farther into Haruka's ears with her intensity. "Don't think that she isn't old enough to handle the issue. Furthermore, don't use your daughter as an excuse against your own happiness." She was ruthless, and spared no punches. Her eyes, now turned to Haruka, were like a force of nature. She had to push back.

"I have a duty to my country, and as the first female Prime Minister, to do my job to the best of my ability. If the media heard of my having a relationship, no matter who it was with, all of my energy would be have to go to handling that instead of maintaining our security or passing laws." Haruka felt suddenly drained, as if telling Michiru exactly what her head was demanding were a physical thing.

The look that Michiru gave her was a physical thing also, expelling her breath and stabbing her heart. "I have responsibilities as well, _Shusho_. Don't you think that my career would be in jeopardy if my conservative constituency were to find out? Or that by being with a public figure such as you, I would lose my precious privacy?" The shorter woman took a deep breath, seeming to steady herself, while Haruka felt smaller and smaller.

"Look at us," Haruka said, scratching the back of her neck. "Arguing over something that doesn't even exist."

"Something that doesn't exist?" Michiru's face suddenly looked pitying, though for Haruka's sake or for her own, Haruka wasn't sure.

The Prime Minister felt a spark of anger. "I beg your pardon, but how can you say you know me? I've worked hard, and sacrificed a lot to get to where I am today. I can't just throw away all I have given to my country…" At this point she had to stop talking, because her voice was starting to get loud, and the other balcony occupants might listen in. She clenched her fist where it laid on the stone railing.

Michiru laid a hand on her fist, using thin but strong fingers to force Haruka's hand to loosen. Haruka ground her teeth together but felt her hand relax anyway. "I hope that someday soon you'll realize that I'm not asking for a sacrifice." The musician laid both hands on Haruka's, looking up into her face and for half of a second, pleading.

Abruptly, she pulled away and curtsied. The wind rustled her dress, whether it was trying to carry her away or push her to stay, Haruka couldn't tell. "Until then, I will wait for you at Ujiyamada," Michiru said, and then she swept away, back into the reception.

Haruka allowed herself a moment to watch her go. Then she put a smile on her face and wound her way through the crowd, to Hotaru and the meeting that awaited her.

* * *

A/N: Pop quiz! If Haruka was born in Nagoya, and Setsuna lives in Kyoko, the Imperial Palace, where will Michiru be waiting? And how does one come to this conclusion? Kudos for whomever guesses correctly first!

I apologize for the delay in updating, and hope this large chapter can make up for it a bit. That pesky Hurricane Ike came through and destroyed my workplace and a lot of the routine in my life, so writing was put by the wayside for a while. Fortunately, my home and my soft, mushy parts are intact, as well as my friends and family. And this story will absolutely be updated again, and soon. Like the title of this chapter, I fell into the trap of trying to do everything, and in chasing this impossibility, accomplished nothing!

So I thank you reviewers for egging me on, and reminding me that, while writing _The Odyssey_ is all well and good, writing anything at all is better! Thank you!


End file.
